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THE  LIBRARY 

OF 

THE  UNIVERSITY 

OF  CALIFORNIA 

LOS  ANGELES 


A  MAN  FROM  THE  NORTH 


BY     ARNOLD     BENNETT 


Novels 

THE  OLD  WIVES'  TALE 

HELEN   WITH  THE  HIGH  HAND 

THE  BOOK  OF  CARLOTTA 

BURIED  ALIVE 

A  GREAT  MAN 

LEONORA 

WHOM  GOD  HATH  JOINED     • 

A  MAN  FROM  THE  NORTH 

ANNA  OF  THE  FIVE  TOWNS 

THE   GLIMPSE 

Pocket  Philosophies 

HOW    TO    LIVE    ON    24    HOURS   A 

DAY 
THE  HUMAN  MACHINE 
LITERARY   TASTE 
MENTAL  EFFICIENCY 

Miscellaneous 

CUPID  AND  COMMONSENSE:  A  Play 
WHAT  THE  PUBLIC  WANTS:  A  Play 
THE  TRUTH  ABOUT  AN  AUTHOR 
THE  FEAST  OF  ST.  FRIEND 


GEORGE  H.  DORAN  COMPANY 

NEW  YORK 


A    MAN    FROM 
THE    NORTH 


BY 

ARNOLD    BENNETT 

AUTHOR   OF    "  THE   OLD  WIVES'  TALES," 
"BURIED    alive" 


NEW  YORK 
GEORGE  H.  DORAN  COMPANY 


Copyright,  1898, 
By  John  Lane 

Copyright,  19II, 
By  George  H.  Doran  Company 


TO  THE  ONE 
WHOM  I  MOST  HONOUR 


ENCfTSH 


A  MAN  FROM  THE  NORTH 


A  Man  from  the  North 


CHAPTER  I 

THERE  grows  In  the  North  Country  a  cer- 
tain kind  of  youth  of  whom  it  may  be  said 
that  he  is  born  to  be  a  Londoner.  The 
metropolis,  and  everything  that  appertains  to  it, 
that  comes  down  from  it,  that  goes  up  into  it,  has 
for  him  an  imperious  fascination.  Long  before 
schooldays  are  over  he  learns  to  take  a  doleful 
pleasure  in  watching  the  exit  of  the  London  train 
from  the  railway  station.  He  stands  by  the  hot  en- 
gine and  envies  the  very  stoker.  Gazing  curiously 
into  the  carriages,  he  wonders  that  men  and  women 
who  in  a  few  hours  will  be  treading  streets  called 
Piccadilly  and  the  Strand  can  contemplate  the  im- 
mediate future  with  so  much  apparent  calmness; 
some  of  them  even  have  the  audacity  to  look  bored. 
He  finds  it  difficult  to  keep  from  throwing  himself 
in  the  guard's  van  as  It  glides  past  him;  and  not  until 
the  last  coach  is  a  speck  upon  the  distance  does  he 

X 


2  A  MAN  FROM  THE  NORTH 

turn  away  and,  nodding  absently  to  the  ticket-clerk, 
who  knows  him  well,  go  home  to  nurse  a  vague  am- 
bition and  dream  of  Town. 

London  is  the  place  where  newspapers  are  issued, 
books  written,  and  plays  performed.  And  this 
youth,  who  now  sits  in  an  office,  reads  all  the  news- 
papers. He  knows  exactly  when  a  new  work  by  a 
famous  author  should  appear,  and  awaits  the  re- 
views with  impatience.  He  can  tell  you  off-hand  the 
names  of  the  pieces  in  the  bills  of  the  twenty  prin- 
cipal West-end  theatres,  what  their  quality  is,  and 
how  long  they  may  be  expected  to  run;  and  on  the 
production  of  a  new  play,  the  articles  of  the  dra- 
matic critics  provide  him  with  sensations  almost  as 
vivid  as  those  of  the  most  zealous  first-nighter  at  the 
performance  Itself. 

Sooner  or  later,  perhaps  by  painful  roads,  he 
reaches  the  goal  of  his  desire.  London  accepts  him 
—  on  probation;  and  as  his  strength  is,  so  she  de- 
means herself.  Let  him  be  bold  and  resolute,  and 
she  will  make  an  obeisance,  but  her  heel  is  all  too 
ready  to  crush  the  coward  and  hesitant;  and  her 
victims,  once  underfoot,  do  not  often  rise  again. 


CHAPTER  II 

THE  antique  four-wheeler,  top-heavy  with 
luggage,  swung  unsteadily  round  by  Tat- 
tersall's  and  into  Raphael  Street.  Richard 
thrust  down  the  window  with  a  sharp  bang,  indica- 
tive of  a  strange  new  sense  of  power;  but  before  the 
cab  came  to  a  standstill  he  had  collected  himself, 
and  managed  to  alight  with  considerable  decorum. 
When  the  door  opened  in  answer  to  his  second  ring, 
a  faint,  sour  odour  escaped  from  the  house,  and  he 
remembered  the  friendly  feminine  warnings  which 
he  had  received  at  Bursley  on  the  subject  of  Lon- 
don lodgings.  The  aspect  of  the  landlady,  however, 
reassured  him;  she  was  a  diminutive  old  woman  In 
ridiculously  short  skirts,  with  a  yellow,  crinkled  face, 
grey  eyes,  and  a  warm,  benevolent  smile  that  con- 
quered. 'As  she  greeted  Richard  she  blushed  like 
a  girl,  and  made  a  little  old-fashioned  curtsey. 
Richard  offered  his  hand,  and,  after  wiping  hers  on 
a  clean  apron,  she  took  It  timidly. 

"  I  hope  we  shall  get  on  well  together,  sir,"  she 
said,  looking  straight  up  into  her  new  lodger's  eyes. 

3 


4  A  MAN  FROM  THE  NORTH 

"  I  'm  sure  we  shall,"  answered  Richard,  sincerely. 

She  preceded  him  up  the  narrow,  frowsy  stair- 
case, which  was  full  of  surprising  turns. 

"  You  '11  find  these  stairs  a  bit  awkward  at  first," 
she  apologised.  "  I  've  often  thought  of  getting  a 
bit  of  nice  carpet  on  them,  but  what's  the  use?  It 
would  be  done  for  In  a  week.  Now,  here  's  your 
room,  sir,  first  floor  front,  with  two  nice  French  win- 
dows, you  see,  and  a  nice  balcony.  Now,  about 
tidying  it  of  a  morning,  sir.  If  you  '11  step  out  for 
a  walk  as  soon  as  you  get  up,  my  daughter  shall 
make  the  bed,  and  dust,  and  you  '11  come  in  and  find 
it  all  nice  and  straight  for  breakfast." 

"  Very  well,"  assented  Richard. 

"  That 's  how  I  generally  arrange  with  my  young 
men.  I  like  them  to  have  their  breakfast  in  a  nice 
tidy  room,  you  see,  sir.  Now,  what  will  you  have 
for  tea,  sir?     A  little  nice  bread  and  butter    .    .    ." 

When  she  was  gone  Richard  formally  surveyed 
his  quarters :  a  long,  rather  low  room,  its  length  cut 
by  the  two  windows  which  were  Mrs.  Rowbotham's 
particular  pride;  between  the  windows  a  table  with  a 
faded  green  cloth,  and  a  small  bed  opposite;  behind 
the  door  an  artfully  concealed  washstand;  the  man- 
telpiece, painted  mustard  yellow,  bore  divers  squat 
earthenware  figures,  and  was  surmounted  by  an  ob- 
long mirror  framed  in  rosewood;  over  the  mirror  an 


A  MAN  FROM  THE  NORTH  5 

illuminated  text,  "  Trust  in  Jesus,"  and  over  the  text 
an  oleograph,  in  collision  with  the  ceiling,  entitled, 
"  After  the  Battle  of  Culloden."  The  walls  were 
decorated  with  a  pattern  of  giant  pink  roses;  and 
here  and  there,  hiding  the  roses,  were  hung  photo- 
graphs of  persons  in  their  Sunday  clothes,  and  land- 
scapes hand-painted  in  oil,  depicting  bridges,  trees, 
water,  and  white  sails  in  the  distance.  But  the  fur- 
nishing of  the  room  caused  Richard  no  uneasiness; 
in  a  few  moments  he  had  mentally  arranged  how  to 
make  the  place  habitable,  and  thenceforth  he  only 
saw  what  should  and  would  be. 

Tea  was  brought  in  by  a  girl  whose  face  pro- 
claimed her  to  be  Mrs.  Rowbotham's  daughter.  At 
the  sight  of  her  Richard  privately  winked;  he  had 
read  in  books  about  landladies'  daughters,  but  this 
one  gave  the  lie  to  books;  she  was  young,  she  was 
beautiful,  and  Richard  would  have  sworn  to  her  in- 
nocence. With  an  accession  of  boldness  which  sur- 
prised himself,  he  inquired  her  name. 

"  Lily,  sir,"  she  said,  blushing  like  her  mother. 

He  cut  the  new,  heavy  bread,  and  poured  out  a 
cup  of  tea  with  the  awkwardness  of  one  unaccus- 
tomed to  such  work,  and,  having  made  space  on  the 
tray,  set  the  evening  paper  against  the  sugar  basin, 
and  began  to  eat  and  read.  Outside  were  two  piano 
organs,  children  shouting,  and  a  man  uttering  some 


'6  A  MAN  FROM  THE  NORTH 

monotonous  unintelligible  cry.  It  grew  dark;  Mrs. 
Rowbotham  came  in  with  a  lamp  and  cleared  the 
table;  Richard  was  looking  through  the  window,  and 
neither  spoke.  Presently  he  sat  down.  That  be- 
ing his  first  night  in  London,  he  had  determined  to 
spend  it  quietly  at  home.  The  piano  organs  and  the 
children  were  still  strident.  A  peculiar  feeling  of 
isolation  momentarily  overcame  him,  and  the  noises 
of  the  street  seemed  to  recede.  Then  he  went  to 
the  window  again,  and  noticed  that  the  children  were 
dancing  quite  gracefully;  it  occurred  to  him  that  they 
might  be  ballet  children.  He  picked  up  the  paper 
and  examined  the  theatrical  advertisements,  at  first 
idly,  but  afterwards  in  detail. 

With  a  long  sigh,  he  took  his  hat  and  stick,  and 
went  very  slowly  downstairs.  Mrs.  Rowbotham 
heard  him  fumbling  with  the  catch  of  the  front  door. 

"  Are  you  going  out,  sir?  " 

"  Only  just  for  a  walk,"  said  Richard,  noncha- 
lantly. 

"  Perhaps  I  'd  better  give  you  a  latch-key?  " 

"  Thanks." 

Another  moment  and  he  was  in  the  delicious 
streets,  going  east. 


CHAPTER  III 

ALTHOUGH  he  had  visited  London  but 
once  before,  and  then  only  for  a  few  hours, 
he  was  not  unfamiliar  with  the  topogra- 
phy of  the  town,  having  frequently  studied  it  In 
maps  and  an  old  copy  of  Kelly's  directory. 

He  walked  slowly  up  Park  Side  and  through 
Piccadilly,  picking  out  as  he  passed  them  the  French 
Embassy,  Hyde  Park  Corner,  Apsley  House,  Park 
Lane,  and  Devonshire  House.  As  he  drank  in  the 
mingled  glare  and  glamour  of  Piccadilly  by  night, — 
the  remote  stars,  the  high  sombre  trees,  the  vast, 
dazzling  interiors  of  clubs,  the  sinuous,  flickering 
lines  of  traffic,  the  radiant  faces  of  women  framed 
in  hansoms, —  he  laughed  the  laugh  of  luxurious 
contemplation,  acutely  happy.  At  last,  at  last,  he 
had  come  into  his  Inheritance.  London  accepted 
him.  He  was  hers;  she  his;  and  nothing  should  part 
them.  Starvation  In  London  would  Itself  be  bliss. 
But  he  had  no  intention  of  starving!  Filled  with 
great  purposes,  he  straightened  his  back,  and  just 
then  a  morsel  of  mud  thrown  up  from  a  bus-wheel 


8  A  MAN  FROM  THE  NORTH 

splashed  warm  and  gritty  on  his  cheek.     He  wiped  It 
off  caressingly,  with  a  smile. 

Although  It  was  Saturday  night,  and  most  of  the 
shops  were  closed,  an  establishment  where  watches 
and  trinkets  of  *'  Anglo-Spanish  "  gold,  superb  In 
appearance  and  pillowed  on  green  plush,  were  re- 
tailed at  alluring  prices,  still  threw  a  brilliant  light 
on  the  pavement,  and  Richard  crossed  the  road  to 
Inspect  Its  wares.  He  turned  away,  but  retraced  his 
steps  and  entered  the  shop.  An  assistant  pohtely  In- 
quired his  wishes. 

*'  I  want  one  of  those  hunters  you  have  In  the 
window  at  29/6,"  said  Richard,  with  a  gruffnes3 
which  must  have  been  involuntary. 

"  Yes,  sir.  Here  Is  one.  We  guarantee  that  the 
works  are  equal  to  the  finest  English  lever." 

"  I  '11  take  it."     He  put  down  the  money. 

"  Thank  you.     Can  I  show  you  anything  else  ?  " 

"  Nothing,  thanks,"  still  more  gruffly. 

"  We  have  some  excellent  chains     .     .     ." 

''Nothing  else,  thanks."  And  he  walked  out, 
putting  his  purchase  In  his  pocket.  A  perfectly  re- 
liable gold  watch,  which  he  had  worn  for  years, 
already  lay  there. 

At  Piccadilly  Circus  he  loitered,  and  then  crossed 
over  and  went  along  Coventry  Street  to  Leicester 
Square.     The    immense    facade    of    the    Ottoman 


A  MAN  FROM  THE  NORTH  9 

Theatre  of  Varieties,  with  its  rows  of  illuminated 
windows  and  crescent  moons  set  against  the  sky,  rose 
before  him,  and  the  glory  of  it  was  intoxicating.  It 
is  not  too  much  to  say  that  the  Ottoman  held  a 
stronger  fascination  for  Richard  than  any  other 
place  in  London.  The  British  Museum,  Fleet 
Street,  and  the  Lyceum  were  magic  names,  but  more 
magical  than  either  was  the  name  of  the  Ottoman. 
The  Ottoman,  on  the  rare  occasions  when  It  hap- 
pened to  be  mentioned  in  Bursley,  was  a  synonym 
for  all  the  glittering  vices  of  the  metropolis.  It 
stank  in  the  nostrils  of  the  London  delegates  who 
came  down  to  speak  at  the  annual  meetings  of  the 
local  Society  for  the  Suppression  of  Vice.  But  how 
often  had  Richard,  somnolent  in  chapel,  mitigated 
the  rigours  of  a  long  sermon  by  dreaming  of  an 
Ottoman  ballet, —  one  of  those  voluptuous  specta- 
cles, all  legs  and  white  arms,  which  from  time  to 
time  were  described  so  ornately  In  the  London  daily 
papers. 

The  brass-barred  swinging  doors  of  the  Grand 
Circle  entrance  were  simultaneously  opened  for  him 
by  two  human  automata  dressed  exactly  alike  in  long 
semi-military  coats,  a  very  tall  man  and  a  stunted 
boy.  He  advanced  with  what  air  of  custom  he 
could  command,  and  after  taking  a  ticket  and 
traversing     a     heavily     decorated     corridor     en- 


10         A  MAN  FROM  THE  NORTH 

countered  another  pair  of  swinging  doors;  they 
opened,  and  a  girl  passed  out,  followed  by  a  man 
who  was  talking  to  her  vehemently  in  French.  At 
the  same  moment  a  gust  of  distant  music  struck 
Richard's  ear.  As  he  climbed  a  broad,  thick-piled 
flight  of  steps,  the  music  became  louder,  and  a  clap- 
ping of  hands  could  be  heard.  At  the  top  of  the 
steps  hung  a  curtain  of  blue  velvet;  he  pushed  aside 
Its  stiff,  heavy  folds  with  difficulty,  and  entered  the 
auditorium. 

The  smoke  of  a  thousand  cigarettes  enveloped 
the  furthest  parts  of  the  great  interior  In  a  thin  blu- 
ish haze,  which  was  dissipated  as  It  reached  the 
domed  ceiling  In  the  rays  of  a  crystal  chandelier. 
Far  in  front  and  a  little  below  the  level  of  the  circle 
lay  a  line  of  footlights  broken  by  the  silhoutte  of 
the  conductor's  head.  A  diminutive,  solitary  figure 
In  red  and  yellow  stood  In  the  centre  of  the  huge 
stage;  it  was  kissing  Its  hands  to  the  audience  with 
a  mincing,  operatic  gesture;  presently  it  tripped  off 
backwards,  stopping  at  every  third  step  to  bow;  the 
applause  ceased,  and  the  curtain  fell  slowly. 

The  broad,  semicircular  promenade  which 
flanked  the  seats  of  the  grand  circle  was  filled  with 
a  well-dressed,  well-fed  crowd.  The  men  talked 
and  laughed,  for  the  most  part,  in  little  knots,  while 
in   and  out,   steering  their  way   easily   and   rapidly 


A  MAN  FROM  THE  NORTH  ii 

among  these  groups,  moved  the  women:  some  with 
rouged  cheeks,  greasy  vermilion  lips,  and  enormous 
liquid  eyes;  others  whose  faces  were  innocent  of 
cosmetics  and  showed  pale  under  the  electric  light; 
but  all  with  a  peculiar,  exaggerated  swing  of  the 
body  from  the  hips,  and  all  surreptitiously  regarding 
themselves  in  the  mirrors  which  abounded  on  every 
glowing  wall. 

Richard  stood  aloof  against  a  pillar.  Near  him 
were  two  men  in  evening  dress  conversing  in  tones 
which  just  rose  above  the  general  murmur  of  talk 
and  the  high,  penetrating  tinkle  of  glass  from  the 
bar  behind  the  promenade. 

"And  what  did  she  say  then?  "  one  of  the  pair 
asked  smilingly.     Richard  strained  his  ear  to  listen. 

"  Well,  she  told  me,''  the  other  said,  speaking 
with  a  dreamy  drawl,  while  fingering  his  watch- 
chain  absently  and  gazing  down  at  the  large  diamond 
in  his  shirt, — "  she  told  me  that  she  said  she  'd  do 
for  him  if  he  did  n't  fork  out.  But  I  don't  believe 
her.  You  know,  of  course  .  .  .  There 's  Lot- 
tie    .     .     ." 

The  band  suddenly  began  to  play,  and  after  a 
few  crashing  bars  the  curtain  went  up  for  the  ballet. 
The  rich  coup  d' ml  which  presented  itself  provoked 
a  burst  of  clapping  from  the  floor  of  the  house  and 
the  upper  tiers,  but  to  Richard's  surprise  no  one  in 


12  A  MAN  FROM  THE  NORTH 

his  proximity  seemed  to  exhibit  any  interest  in  the 
entertainment.  The  two  men  still  talked  with  their 
backs  to  the  stage,  the  women  continued  to  find  a 
pathway  between  the  groups,  and  from  within  the 
bar  came  the  unabated  murmur  of  voices  and  tinkle 
of  glass. 

Richard  never  took  his  dazed  eyes  from  the 
stage.  The  moving  pageant  unrolled  itself  before 
him  like  a  vision,  rousing  new  sensations,  tremors  of 
strange  desires.  He  was  under  a  spell,  and  when  at 
last  the  curtain  descended  to  the  monotonous  roll  of 
drums,  he  awoke  to  the  fact  that  several  people  were 
watching  him  curiously.  Blushing  slightly,  he  went 
to  a  far  corner  of  the  promenade.  At  one  of  the 
little  tables  a  woman  sat  alone.  She  held  her  head 
at  an  angle,  and  her  laughing,  lustrous  eyes  gleamed 
Invitingly  at  Richard.  Without  quite  intending  to 
do  so  he  hesitated  in  front  of  her,  and  she  twittered 
a  phrase  ending  In  cheri. 

He  abruptly  turned  away.  He  would  have  been 
very  glad  to  remain  and  say  something  clever,  but 
his  tongue  refused  Its  office,  and  his  legs  moved  of 
themselves. 

At  midnight  he  found  himself  in  Piccadilly  Circus, 
unwilling  to  go  home.  He  strolled  leisurely  back  to 
Leicester  Square.  The  front  of  the  Ottoman  was 
in  darkness,  and  the  square  almost  deserted. 


CHAPTER  IV 

HE  walked  home  to  Raphael  Street.  The 
house  was  dead,  except  for  a  pale  light  in 
his  own  room.  At  the  top  bf  the  bare, 
creaking  stairs  he  fumbled  a  moment  for  the  handle 
of  his  door,  and  the  regular  sound  of  two  distinct 
snores  descended  from  an  upper  storey.  He  closed 
the  door  softly,  locked  it,  and  glanced  round  the 
room  with  some  eagerness.  The  smell  of  the  ex- 
piring lamp  compelled  him  to  unlatch  both  windows. 
He  extinguished  the  lamp,  and  after  lighting  a  cou- 
ple of  candles  on  the  mantelpiece  drew  a  chair  to  the 
fireplace  and  sat  down  to  munch  an  apple.  The 
thought  occurred  to  him :  "  This  is  my  home  —  for 
how  long?  " 

And  then: 

"  Why  the  dickens  did  n't  I  say  something  to  that 
girl?" 

Between  the  candles  on  the  mantelpiece  was  a  pho- 
tograph of  his  sister,  which  he  had  placed  there  be- 
fore going  out.  He  looked  at  it  with  a  half  smile, 
and  murmured  audibly  several  times: 

13 


14         A  MAN  FROM  THE  NORTH 

"  Why  the  dickens  did  n't  I  say  something  to  that 
girl,  with  her  chert  f  " 

The  woman  of  the  photograph  seemed  to  be  be- 
tween thirty  and  forty  years  of  age.  She  was  fair, 
with  a  mild,  serious  face,  and  much  wavy  hair.  The 
forehead  was  broad  and  smooth  and  white,  the 
cheek-bones  prominent,  and  the  mouth  somewhat 
large.  The  eyes  were  a  very  light  grey;  they  met 
the  gaze  of  the  spectator  with  a  curious  timid  defi- 
ance, as  if  to  say,  "  I  am  weak,  but  I  can  at  least  fight 
till  I  fall."  Underneath  the  eyes  —  the  portrait 
was  the  work  of  an  amateur,  and  consequently  had 
not  been  robbed  of  all  texture  by  retouching  —  a 
few  crowsfeet  could  be  seen. 

As  far  back  as  Richard's  memory  went,  he  and 
Mary  had  lived  together  and  alone  in  the  small  Red 
House  which  lay  half  a  mile  out  of  Bursley,  towards 
Turnhill,  on  the  Manchester  road.  At  one  time  it 
had  been  rurally  situated,  creeping  plants  had 
clothed  its  red  walls,  and  the  bare  patch  behind  it 
had  been  a  garden;  but  the  gradual  development  of 
a  coal-producing  district  had  covered  the  fields  with 
smooth,  mountainous  heaps  of  grey  refuse,  and 
stunted  or  killed  every  tree  In  the  neighbourhood. 
The  house  was  undermined,  and  in  spite  of  iron 
clamps  had  lost  most  of  its  rectangles,  while  the  rent 
had  dropped  to  fifteen  pounds  a  year. 


A  MAN  FROM  THE  NORTH  15 

Mary  was  very  much  older  than  her  brother,  and 
she  had  always  appeared  to  him  exactly  the  mature 
woman  of  the  photograph.  Of  his  parents  he 
knew  nothing  except  what  Mary  had  told  him,  which 
was  little  and  vague,  for  she  watchfully  kept  the 
subject  at  a  distance. 

She  had  supported  herself  and  Richard  in  com- 
fort by  a  medley  of  vocations,  teaching  the  piano, 
collecting  rents,  and  practising  the  art  of  millinery. 
They  had  few  friends.  The  social  circles  of  Burs- 
ley  were  centred  in  its  churches  and  chapels;  and 
though  Mary  attended  the  Wesleyan  sanctuary  with 
some  regularity,  she  took  small  interest  in  prayer- 
meetings,  class-meetings,  bazaars,  and  all  the  other 
minor  religious  activities,  thus  neglecting  oppor- 
tunities for  intercourse  which  might  have  proved 
agreeable.  She  had  sent  Richard  to  the  Sunday- 
school;  but  when,  at  the  age  of  fourteen,  he  pro- 
tested that  Sunday-school  was  "  awful  rot,"  she  an- 
swered calmly,  "Don't  go,  then;"  and  from  that 
day  his  place  in  class  was  empty.  Soon  afterwards 
the  boy  cautiously  insinuated  that  chapel  belonged  to 
the  same  category  as  Sunday-school,  but  the  hint 
failed  of  its  effect. 

The  ladies  of  the  town  called  sometimes,  gener- 
ally upon  business,  and  took  afternoon  tea.  Once 
the  vicar's  wife,  who  wished  to  obtain  musical  tui- 


1 6         A  MAN  FROM  THE  NORTH 

tlon  for  her  three  youngest  daughters  at  a  nominal 
fee,  came  in  and  found  Richard  at  a  book  on  the 
hearthrug. 

*'  Ah  !  "  said  she.  "  Just  like  his  father,  Is  he  not, 
Miss  Larch?  "     Mary  made  no  reply. 

The  house  was  full  of  books.  Richard  knew  them 
all  well  by  sight,  but  until  he  was  sixteen  he  read  only 
a  select  handful  of  volumes  which  had  stood  the  test 
of  years.  Often  he  Idly  speculated  as  to  the  con- 
tents of  some  of  the  others, — "  Horatll  Opera,"  for 
instance:  had  that  anything  to  do  with  theatres?  — 
yet  for  some  curious  reason,  which  when  he  grew 
older  he  sought  for  in  vain,  he  never  troubled  him- 
self to  look  Into  them.  Mary  read  a  good  deal, 
chiefly  books  and  magazines  fetched  for  her  by 
Richard  from  the  Free  Library. 

When'  he  was  about  seventeen,  a  change  came. 
He  was  aware  dimly,  and  as  If  by  Instinct,  that  his 
sister's  life  In  the  early  days  had  not  been  without  its 
romance.  Certainly  there  was  something  hidden  be- 
tween her  and  William  Vernon,  the  science  master 
at  the  Institute,  for  they  were  Invariably  at  great 
pains  to  avoid  each  other.  He  sometimes  wondered 
whether  Mr.  Vernon  was  connected  In  any  way  with 
the  melancholy  which  was  never,  even  In  her 
brightest  moments,  wholly  absent  from  Mary's  de- 
meanour.    One  Sunday  night  —  Richard  had  been 


A  MAN  FROM  THE  NORTH  17 

keeping  house  —  Mary,  coming  in  late  from  chapel, 
threw  his  arms  round  his  neck  as  he  opened  the 
door,  and,  dragging  down  his  face  to  hers,  kissed 
him  hysterically  again  and  again. 

"  Dicky,  Dick,"  she  whispered,  laughing  and  cry- 
ing at  the  same  time,  "  something  's  happened.  I  'm 
almost  an  old  woman,  but  something  's  happened!  " 

"  I  know,"  said  Richard,  retreating  hurriedly  from 
her  embrace.  "  You  're  going  to  marry  Mr.  Ver- 
non." 

"  But  how  could  you  tell?  " 

"Oh!  I  just  guessed." 

*'  You  don't  mind,  Dick,  do  you?  " 

"I!  Mind!"  Afraid  lest  his  feelings  should 
appear  too  plainly,  he  asked  abruptly  for  supper. 

Mary  gave  up  her  various  callings,  the  wedding 
took  place,  and  William  Vernon  came  to  live  with 
them.  It  was  then  that  Richard  began  to  read  more 
widely,  and  to  form  a  definite  project  of  going  to 
London. 

He  could  not  fail  to  respect  and  like  William. 
The  life  of  the  married  pair  seemed  to  him  idyllic; 
the  tender,  furtive  manifestations  of  affection  which 
were  constantly  passing  between  Mary  and  her 
sedate,  middle-aged  husband  touched  him  deeply, 
and  at  the  thought  of  the  fifteen  irretrievable  years 
during  which  some  ridiculous  misunderstanding  had 


1 8  A  MAN  FROM  THE  NORTH 

separated  this  loving  couple,  his  eyes  were  not  quite 
as  dry  as  a  youth  could  wish.  But  with  it  all  he 
was  uncomfortable.  He  felt  himself  an  intruder 
upon  holy  privacies;  if  at  meal-times  husband  and 
wife  clasped  hands  round  the  corner  of  the  table,  he 
looked  at  his  plate;  If  they  smiled  happily  upon  no 
discoverable  provocation,  he  pretended  not  to  no- 
tice the  fact.  They  did  not  need  him.  Their 
hearts  were  full  of  kindness  for  every  living  thing, 
but  unconsciously  they  stood  aloof.  He  was  driven 
in  upon  himself,  and  spent  much  of  his  time  either  in 
solitary  walking  or  hidden  in  an  apartment  called  the 
study. 

He  ordered  magazines  whose  very  names  Mr. 
Holt,  the  principal  bookseller  in  Bursley,  was  un- 
familiar with,  and  after  the  magazines  came  books 
of  verse  and  novels  enclosed  In  covers  of  mystic 
design,  and  printed  in  a  style  which  Mr.  Holt, 
though  secretly  impressed,  set  down  as  eccentric. 
Mr.  Holt's  shop  performed  the  functions  of  a  club 
for  the  dignitaries  of  the  town;  and  since  he  took 
care  that  this  esoteric  literature  was  well  displayed 
on  the  counter  until  called  for,  the  young  man's  fame 
as  a  great  reader  soon  spread,  and  Richard  began 
to  see  that  he  was  regarded  as  a  curiosity  of  which 
Bursley  need  not  be  ashamed.  His  self-esteem,  al- 
ready fostered  into  lustiness  by  a  number  of  facile 


A  MAN  FROM  THE  NORTH  19 

school  successes,  became  more  marked,  although  he 
was  wise  enough  to  keep  a  great  deal  of  it  to  him- 
self. 

One  evening,  after  Mary  and  her  husband  had 
been  talking  quietly  some  while,  Richard  came  into 
the  sitting-room. 

"  I  don't  want  any  supper,"  he  said,  "  I  'm  going 
for  a  bit  of  a  walk." 

"  Shall  we  tell  him?"  Mary  asked,  smiling,  after 
he  had  left  the  room. 

"  Please  yourself,"  said  William,  also  smiling. 

"  He  talks  a  great  deal  about  going  to  London. 
I  hope  he  won't  go  till  —  after  April;  I  think  it 
would  upset  me." 

"  You  need  not  trouble,  I  think,  my  dear," 
William  answered.  "  He  talks  about  it,  but  he 
is  n't  gone  yet." 

Mr.  Vernon  was  not  quite  pleased  with  Richard. 
He  had  obtained  for  him  —  being  connected  with 
the  best  people  in  the  town  —  a  position  as  short- 
hand and  general  clerk  in  a  solicitor's  office,  and  had 
learnt  privately  that  though  the  youth  was  smart 
enough,  he  was  scarcely  making  that  progress  which 
might  have  been  expected.  He  lacked  "  applica- 
tion." William  attributed  this  shortcoming  to  the 
excessive  reading  of  verse  and  obscure  novels. 

April  came,   and,   as   Mr.   Vernon  had   foretold, 


20         A  MAN  FROM  THE  NORTH 

Richard  still  remained  in  Bursley.  But  the  older 
man  was  now  too  deeply  absorbed  in  another  matter 
to  interest  himself  at  all  in  Richard's  movements, — 
a  matter  in  which  Richard  himself  exhibited  a  shy 
concern.  Hour  followed  anxious  hour,  and  at  last 
was  heard  the  faint,  fretful  cry  of  a  child  in  the 
night.  Then  stillness.  All  that  Richard  ever  saw 
was  a  coffin,  and  in  it  a  dead  child  at  a  dead  woman's 
feet. 

Fifteen  months  later  he  was  in  London. 


CHAPTER  V 

MR.  CURPET,  of  the  firm  of  Curpet  and 
Smythe,  whose  name  was  painted  in 
black  and  white  on  the  dark  green 
door,  had  told  him  that  the  office  hours  were  from 
nine-thirty  to  six.  The  clock  of  the  Law  Courts 
was  striking  a  quarter  to  ten.  He  hesitated  a  mo- 
ment, and  then  seized  the  handle;  but  the  door  was 
fast,  and  he  descended  the  two  double  flights  of  iron 
stairs  into  the  quadrangle. 

New  Serjeant's  Court  was  a  large  modern  build- 
ing of  very  red  brick  with  terra-cotta  facings,  eight 
storeys  high;  but  in  spite  of  its  faults  of  colour  and 
its  excessive  height,  ample  wall  spaces  and  temperate 
ornamentation  gave  it  a  dignity  and  comeliness  suffi- 
cient to  distinguish  it  from  other  buildings  in  the 
locality.  In  the  centre  of  the  court  was  an  oval 
patch  of  brown  earth,  with  a  few  trees  whose  pale- 
leaved  tops,  struggling  towards  sunlight,  reached  to 
the  middle  of  the  third  storey.  Round  this  planta- 
tion ran  an  immaculate  roadway  of  wooden  blocks, 
flanked  by  an  equally  immaculate  asphalt  footpath. 

21 


22  A  MAN  FROM  THE  NORTH 

The  court  possessed  its  own  private  lamp-posts,  and 
these  were  wrought  of  iron  in  an  antique  design. 

Men  and  boys,  grave  and  unconsciously  oppressed 
by  the  burden  of  the  coming  day,  were  continually 
appearing  out  of  the  gloom  of  the  long  tunnelled 
entrance  and  vanishing  into  one  or  other  of  the 
twelve  doorways.  Presently  a  carriage  and  pair 
drove  in,  and  stopped  opposite  Richard.  A  big  man 
of  about  fifty,  with  a  sagacious  red  and  blue  face, 
jumped  alertly  out,  followed  by  an  attentive  clerk 
carrying  a  blue  sack.  It  seemed  to  Richard  that  he 
knew  the  features  of  the  big  man  from  portraits, 
and,  following  the  pair  up  the  staircase  of  No.  2,  he 
discovered  from  the  legend  on  the  door  through 
which  they  disappeared  that  he  had  been  in  the 
presence  of  Her  Majesty's  Attorney-General.  Si- 
multaneously with  a  misgiving  as  to  his  ability  to 
reach  the  standard  of  clerical  ability  doubtless  re- 
quired by  Messrs.  Curpet  and  Smythe,  who  did 
business  cheek  by  jowl  with  an  attorney-general  and 
probably  employed  him,  came  an  elevation  of  spirit 
as  he  darkly  guessed  what  none  can  realise  com- 
pletely, that  a  man's  future  lies  on  his  own  knees, 
and  on  the  knees  of  no  gods  whatsoever. 

He  continued  his  way  upstairs,  but  Messrs.  Cur- 
pet and  Smythe's  portal  was  still  locked.  Looking 
down  the  well,  he  espied  a  boy  crawHng  reluctantly 


A  MAN  FROM  THE  NORTH  23 

and  laboriously  upward,  with  a  key  In  his  hand  which 
he  dragged  across  the  bannisters.  In  course  of  time 
the  boy  reached  Messrs.  Curpet  and  Smythe's  door, 
and  opening  it  stepped  neatly  over  a  pile  of  letters 
which  lay  Immediately  within.  Richard  followed 
him. 

"Oh!  My  name's  Larch,"  said  Richard,  as  if 
it  had  just  occurred  to  him  that  the  boy  might  be  in- 
terested in  the  fact.  "  Do  you  know  which  Is  my 
room  ?  " 

The  boy  conducted  him  along  a  dark  passage  with 
green  doors  on  either  side,  to  a  room  at  the  end.  It 
was  furnished  mainly  with  two  writing-tables  and 
two  armchairs;  in  one  corner  was  a  disused  copying- 
press,  in  another  an  Immense  pile  of  reporters'  note- 
books; on  the  mantelpiece,  a  tumbler,  a  duster,  and 
a  broken  desk  lamp. 

"  That 's  your  seat,"  said  the  boy,  pointing  to  the 
larger  table,  and  disappeared.  Richard  disposed  of 
his  coat  and  hat  and  sat  down,  trying  to  feel  at  ease 
and  not  succeeding. 

At  five  minutes  past  ten  a  youth  entered  with  the 
"  Times  "  under  his  arm.  Richard  waited  for  him 
to  speak,  but  he  merely  stared  and  took  off  his  over- 
coat.    Then  he  said, — 

"  You  've  got  my  hook.  If  you  don't  mind  I  '11 
put  your  things  on  this  other  one." 


24         A  MAN  FROM  THE  NORTH 

"  Certainly,"  assented  Richard. 

The  youth  spread  his  back  luxuriously  to  the 
empty  fireplace  and  opened  the  "  Times,"  when 
another  and  smaller  boy  put  his  head  in  at  the 
door. 

"  Jenkins,  Mr.  Alder  wants  the  '  Times.'  " 

The  youth  silently  handed  over  the  advertisement 
pages  which  were  lying  on  the  table.  In  a  minute 
the  boy  returned. 

"  Mr.   Alder  says   he   wants   the   inside   of   the 
limes. 

"  Tell  Mr.  Alder  to  go  to  hell,  with  my  compli- 
ments."    The  boy  hesitated. 

"  Go  on,  now,"  Jenkins  insisted.  The  boy  hung 
on  the  door-handle,  smiling  dubiously,  and  then  went 
out. 

"Here,  wait  a  minute!"  Jenkins  called  him 
back.  "  Perhaps  you  'd  better  give  it  him.  Take 
the  damn  thing  away." 

A  sound  of  hurried  footsteps  in  the  next  room  was 
succeeded  by  an  imperious  call  for  Jenkins,  at  which 
Jenkins  slipped  nimbly  into  his  chair  and  untied  a 
bundle  of  papers. 

"  Jenkins!  "  the  call  came  again,  with  a  touch  of 
irritation  in  it,  but  Jenkins  did  not  move.  The  door 
was  thrust  open. 

"  Oh !     You   are   there,   Jenkins.     Just   come   in 


A  MAN  FROM  THE  NORTH  25 

and  take  a  letter  down."  The  tones  were  quite 
placid. 

"  Yes,  Mr.  Smythe." 

"  I  never  take  any  notice  of  Smythe's  calls,"  said 
Jenkins,  when  he  returned.  "  If  he  wants  me,  he 
must  either  ring  or  fetch  me.  If  I  once  began  it, 
I  should  be  running  in  and  out  of  his  room  all  day, 
and  I  Ve  quite  enough  to  do  without  that." 

"  Fidgety,  eh?  "  Richard  suggested. 

"  Fidgety  's  no  word  for  it,  /  tell  you.  Alder  — 
that 's  the  manager,  you  know  —  said  only  yesterday 
that  he  has  less  trouble  with  forty  Chancery  actions 
of  Curpet's  than  with  one  county-court  case  of 
Smythe's.  I  know  I  'd  a  jolly  sight  sooner  write 
forty  of  Curpet's  letters  than  ten  of  Smythe's.  I 
wish  I  'd  got  your  place,  and  you  'd  got  mine.  I 
suppose  you  can  write  shorthand  rather  fast." 

"Middhng,"  said  Richard.     "About  120." 

"  Oh !  We  had  a  man  once  who  could  do  150,  but 
he  'd  been  a  newspaper  reporter.  I  do  a  bit  over 
a  hundred,  if  I  've  not  had  much  to  drink  overnight. 
Let 's  see,  they  're  giving  you  twenty-five  bob,  are  n't 
they?" 

Richard  nodded. 

"  The  man  before  you  had  thirty-five,  and  he 
could  n't  spell  worth  a  brass  button.  I  only  get 
fifteen,    although   I  've   been   here   seven   years.     A 


26  A  MAN  FROM  THE  NORTH 

damn  shame  I  call  It !  But  Curpet  's  beastly  near. 
If  he  'd  give  some  other  people  less,  and  me  a  bit 
more     .     .     ." 

"Who  are  'some  other  people'?"  asked  Rich- 
ard, smiling. 

"  Well,  there  's  old  Aked.  He  sits  in  the  outer 
office  —  you  won't  have  seen  him  because  he  does  n't 
generally  come  till  eleven.  They  give  him  a  pound 
a  week,  just  for  doing  a  bit  of  engrossing  when  he 
feels  inclined  to  engross,  and  for  being  idle  when  he 
feels  inclined  to  be  idle.  He 's  a  broken-down 
something  or  other, —  used  to  be  clerk  to  Curpet's 
father.  He  has  some  dibs  of  his  own,  and  this  just 
finds  him  amusement.  I  bet  he  does  n't  do  fifty 
folios  a  week.  And  he  's  got  the  devil's  own  tem- 
per." 

Jenkins  was  proceeding  to  describe  other  members 
of  the  staff  when  the  entry  of  Mr.  Curpet  himself 
put  an  end  to  the  recital.  Mr.  Curpet  was  a  small 
man,  with  a  round  face  and  a  neatly  trimmed  beard. 

"  Good  morning.  Larch.  If  you  '11  kindly  come 
into  my  room,  I  '11  dictate  my  letters.  Good  morn- 
ing, Jenkins."  He  smiled  and  withdrew,  leaving 
Richard  excessively  surprised  at  his  suave  courtesy. 

In  his  own  room  Mr.  Curpet  sat  before  a  pile  of 
letters,  and  motioned  Richard  to  a  side  table. 

"  You  will  tell  me  if  I  go  too  fast,"  he  said,  and 


A  MAN  FROM  THE  NORTH         27 

began  to  dictate  regularly,  with  scarcely  a  pause. 
The  pile  of  letters  gradually  disappeared  Into  a  bas- 
ket. Before  half  a  dozen  letters  were  done  Richard 
comprehended  that  he  had  become  part  of  a  busi- 
ness machine  of  far  greater  magnitude  than  any- 
thing to  which  he  had  been  accustomed  In  Bursley. 
This  little  man  with  the  round  face  dealt  Impassively 
with  tens  of  thousands  of  pounds;  he  mortgaged 
whole  streets,  bullied  railway  companies,  and  wrote 
familiarly  to  lords.  In  the  middle  of  one  long  let- 
ter, a  man  came  panting  in,  whom  Richard  at  once 
took  for  Mr.  Alder,  the  Chancery  manager.  His 
rather  battered  silk  hat  was  at  the  back  of  his  head, 
and  he  looked  distressed. 

"  I  'm  sorry  to  say  we  Ve  lost  that  summons  in 
Rice  V.  The  L.  R.  Railway." 

"Really!"  said  Mr.  Curpet.  "Better  appeal, 
and  brief  a  leader,  eh?" 

"  Can't  appeal,  Mr.  Curpet." 

"  Well,  we  must  make  the  best  of  it.  Telegraph 
to  the  country,  I  '11  write  and  keep  them  calm. 
It 's  a  pity  they  were  so  sure.  Rice  will  have  to 
economise  for  a  year  or  two.  What  was  my  last 
word.  Larch?"     The  dictation  proceeded. 

One  hour  was  allowed  for  lunch,  and  Richard 
spent  the  first  moiety  of  it  in  viewing  the  ambrosial 
exteriors  of  Strand  restaurants.     With  the  exception 


28  A  MAN  FROM  THE  NORTH 

of  the  coffee-house  at  Bursley,  he  had  never  been  In 
a  restaurant  In  his  life,  and  he  was  timid  of  entering 
any  of  those  sumptuous  establishments  whose  swing- 
ing doors  gave  glimpses  of  richly  decorated  ceilings, 
gleaming  tablecloths,  and  men  In  silk  hats  greedily 
consuming  dishes  placed  before  them  by  obsequious 
waiters. 

At  last,  without  quite  knowing  how  he  got  there, 
he  sat  In  a  long,  low  apartment,  papered  like  an  at- 
tic bedroom,  and  odorous  of  tea  and  cake.  The 
place  was  crowded  with  young  men  and  women 
indifferently  well-dressed,  who  bent  over  uncom- 
fortably small  oblong  marble-topped  tables.  An 
increasing  clatter  of  crockery  filled  the  air.  Wait- 
resses, with  pale,  vacant  faces,  dressed  In  dingy 
black  with  white  aprons,  moved  about  with  difficulty 
at  varying  rates  of  speed,  but  none  of  them  seemed 
to  betray  an  Interest  In  Richard.  Behind  the 
counter,  on  which  stood  great  polished  urns  emitting 
clouds  of  steam,  were  several  women  whose  superior 
rank  in  the  restaurant  was  denoted  by  a  black  apron, 
and  after  five  minutes  had  elapsed  Richard  observed 
one  of  these  damsels  pointing  out  himself  to  a  wait- 
ress, who  approached  and  listened  condescendingly 
to  his  order. 

A  thin  man,  rather  more  than  middle-aged,  with 


A  MAN  FROM  THE  NORTH         29 

a  grey  beard  and  slightly  red  nose,  entered  and  sat 
down  opposite  to  Richard.  Without  preface  he  be- 
gan, speaking  rather  fast  and  with  an  expressive  vi- 
vacity rarely  met  with  In  the  ageing, — 

"  Well,  my  young  friend,  how  do  you  like  your 
new  place?  " 

Richard  stared  at  him. 

"Are  you  Mr.  Aked?" 

"  The  same.  I  suppose  Master  Jenkins  has  made 
you  acquainted  with  all  my  peculiarities  of  temper 
and  temperament. —  Glass  of  milk,  roll,  and  two 
pats  of  butter  —  and,  I  say,  my  girl,  try  not  to  keep 
me  waiting  as  long  as  you  did  yesterday."  There 
was  a  bright  smile  on  his  face,  which  the  waitress  un- 
willingly returned. 

"  Don't  you  know,"  he  went  on,  looking  at  Rich- 
ard's plate, — "  don't  you  know  that  tea  and  ham  to- 
gether are  frightfully  Indigestible?" 

"  I  never  have  Indigestion." 

"  No  matter.  You  soon  will  have  If  you  eat  tea 
and  ham  together.  A  young  man  should  guard  his 
digestion  like  his  honour.  Sounds  funny,  does  n't 
It?  But  it's  right.  An  Impaired  digestive  appa- 
ratus has  ruined  many  a  career.  It  ruined  mine. 
You  see  before  you,  sir,  what  might  have  been  an 
author  of  repute,  but  for  a  wayward  stomach." 


30         A  MAN  FROM  THE  NORTH 

"  You  write?  "  Richard  asked,  Interested  at  once, 
but  afraid  lest  Mr.  Aked  might  be  cumbrously  jok- 
ing. 

"  I  used  to."  The  old  man  spoke  with  proud  self- 
consciousness. 

"Have  you  written  a  book?" 
"  Not  a  book.     But  I  Ve  contributed  to  all  man- 
ner of  magazines  and  newspapers." 
"What  magazines?" 

"  Well,  let  me  see  —  It 's  so  long  ago.     I  Ve  writ- 
ten  for  '  Cornhill.'     I  wrote  for  '  CornhlU  '  when 
Thackeray  edited  It.     I  spoke  to  Carlyle  once." 
"You  did?" 

"  Yes.  Carlyle  said  to  me  —  Carlyle  said  to  me 
—  Carlyle  said  — "  Mr.  Aked's  voice  dwindled  to 
an  Inarticulate  murmur,  and,  suddenly  Ignoring 
Richard's  presence,  he  pulled  a  book  from  his  pocket 
and  began  to  finger  the  leaves.  It  was  a  French 
novel,  "  La  Vie  de  Boheme."  His  face  had  lost  all 
Its  mobile  expressiveness. 

A  little  alarmed  by  such  eccentricity,  and  not 
quite  sure  that  this  associate  of  Carlyle  was  per- 
fectly sane,  Richard  sat  silent,  waiting  for  events, 
Mr.  Aked  was  clearly  accustomed  to  reading  while 
he  ate;  he  could  even  drink  with  his  eyes  on  the 
book.  At  length  he  pushed  his  plates  away  from 
him,  and  closed  the  novel  with  a  snap. 


A  MAN  FROM  THE  NORTH  31 

"  I  see  you  're  from  the  country,  Larch,"  he  said, 
as  if  there  had  been  no  lapse  in  the  conversation. 
"  Now,  why  in  God's  name  did  you  leave  the  coun- 
try?    Are  n't  there  enough  people  in  London?  " 

"  Because  /  wanted  to  be  an  author,"  answered 
Richard,  with  more  assurance  than  veracl:y,  though 
he  spoke  in  good  faith.  The  fact  was  that  his  aspi- 
rations, hitherto  so  vague  as  to  elude  analysis, 
seemed  within  the  last  few  minutes  mysteriously  to 
have  assumed  definite  form. 

"  You  're  a  young  fool,  then." 

"  But  I  've  an  excellent  digestion." 

**  You  won't  have  it  if  you  begin  to  write.  Take 
my  word,  you  're  a  young  fool.  You  don't  know 
what  you  're  going  in  for,  my  little  friend." 

"Was  Murger  a  fool?"  Richard  said  clumsily, 
determined  to  exhibit  an  acquaintance  with  "  La  Vie 
de  Boheme." 

"  Ha  !     We  read  French,  do  we  ?  " 

Richard  blushed.     The  old  man  got  up. 

"  Come  along,"  he  said  peevishly.  "  Let 's  get 
out  of  this  hole." 

At  the  pay-desk,  waiting  for  change,  he  spoke  to 
the  cashier,  a  thin  girl  with  reddish-brown  hair,  who 
coughed, — 

"  Did  you  try  those  lozenges?  " 

"Oh!  yes,  thanks.     They  taste  nice." 


32         A  MAN  FROM  THE  NORTH 

"  Beautiful  day." 

"  Yes;  my  word,  is  n't  it  I  " 

They  walked  back  to  the  office  in  absolute  silence; 
but  just  as  they  were  going  In,  Mr.  Aked  stopped, 
and  took  Richard  by  the  coat. 

"  Have  you  anything  special  to  do  next  Thursday 
night?" 

"  No,"  said  Richard. 

"  Well,  I  '11  take  you  to  a  little  French  restaurant 
In  Soho,  and  we  '11  have  dinner.  Half  a  crown. 
Can  you  afford?  " 

Richard  nodded. 

"  And,  I  say,  bring  along  some  of  your  manu- 
scripts, and  I  '11  flay  them  alive  for  you." 


CHAPTER  VI 

AN  inconstant,  unrefreshing  breeze,  sluggish 
with  accumulated  impurity,  stirred  the  cur- 
tains, and  every  urban  sound  —  high- 
pitched  voices  of  children  playing,  roll  of  wheels  and 
rhythmic  trot  of  horses,  shouts  of  newsboys  and 
querulous  barking  of  dogs  —  came  through  the  open 
windows  touched  with  a  certain  languorous  quality 
that  suggested  a  city  fatigued,  a  city  yearning  for 
the  moist  recesses  of  woods,  the  disinfectant  breath 
of  mountain  tops,  and  the  cleansing  sea. 

On  the  little  table  between  the  windows  lay  pen, 
inlc,  and  paper.  Richard  sat  down  to  be  an  author. 
Since  his  conversation  with  Mr.  Aked  of  the  day  be- 
fore he  had  lived  in  the  full  glow  of  an  impulse  to 
write.  He  discerned,  or  thought  he  discerned,  in 
the  fact  that  he  possessed  the  literary  gift,  a  key  to 
his  recent  life.  It  explained,  to  be  particular,  the 
passion  for  reading  which  had  overtaken  him  at 
seventeen,  and  his  desire  to  come  to  London,  the 
natural  home  of  the  author.  Certainly  it  was 
strange  that  hitherto  he  had  devoted  very  little  seri- 

23 


34         A  MAN  FROM  THE  NORTH 

ous  thought  to  the  subject  of  writing,  but  happily 
there  were  in  existence  sundry  stray  verses  and  prose 
fragments  written  at  Bursley,  and  it  contented  him 
to  recognise  in  these  the  first  tremulous  stirrings  of 
a  late-born  ambition. 

During  the  previous  evening  he  had  busied  him- 
self in  deciding  upon  a  topic.  In  a  morning  paper 
he  had  read  an  article  entitled  "  An  Island  of 
Sleep,"  descriptive  of  Sark;  it  occurred  to  him  that 
a  similar  essay  upon  Lichfield,  the  comatose  cathedral 
city  which  lay  about  thirty  miles  from  Bursley,  might 
suit  a  monthly  magazine.  He  knew  Lichfield  well; 
he  had  been  accustomed  to  visit  it  from  childhood; 
he  loved  It.  As  a  theme  full  of  picturesque  oppor- 
tunities It  had  quickened  his  Imagination,  until  his 
brain  seemed  to  surge  with  vague  but  beautiful  fan- 
cies. In  the  night  his  sleep  had  been  broken,  and 
several  new  ideas  had  suggested  themselves.  And 
now,  after  a  day  of  excited  anticipation,  the  moment 
for  composition  had  arrived. 

As  he  dipped  his  pen  in  the  Ink  a  sudden  appre- 
hension of  failure  surprised  him.  He  dismissed  it, 
and  wrote  In  a  bold  hand,  rather  carefully, — 

Memories  Of  a  City  Of  Sleep. 

That  was  surely  an  excellent  title.  He  pro- 
ceeded :  — 


A  MAN  FROM  THE  NORTH         35 

On  the  old  stone  bridge,  beneath  which  the  clear, 
smooth  waters  of  the  river  have  crept  at  the  same 
pace  for  centuries,  stands  a  little  child,  alone.  It 
is  early  morning,  and  the  clock  of  the  time-stained 
cathedral  which  lifts  its  noble  gothic  towers  scarce 
a  hundred  yards  away,  strikes  five,  to  the  accompani- 
ment of  an  unseen  lark  overhead. 

He  sat  back  to  excogitate  the  next  sentence,  star- 
ing around  the  room  as  if  he  expected  to  find  the 
words  written  on  the  wall.  One  of  the  gilt-framed 
photographs  was  slightly  askew;  he  left  his  chair 
to  put  it  straight;  several  other  pictures  seemed  to 
need  adjustment,  and  he  levelled  them  all  with 
scrupulous  precision.  The  ornaments  on  the  mantel- 
piece were  not  evenly  balanced;  these  he  rearranged 
entirely.  Then,  having  first  smoothed  out  a  crease 
in  the  bedcover,  he  sat  down  again. 

But  most  of  the  beautiful  ideas  which  he  had  per- 
suaded himself  were  firmly  within  his  grasp,  now 
eluded  him,  or  tardily  presented  themselves  in  a 
form  so  obscure  as  to  be  valueless,  and  the  useful 
few  that  remained  defied  all  attempts  to  bring  them 
into  order.  Dashed  by  his  own  impotence,  he  sought 
out  the  article  on  Sark,  and  examined  it  afresh. 
Certain  weekly  organs  of  literature  had  educated 
him  to  sneer  at  the  journalism  of  the  daily  press,  but 


36         A  MAN  FROM  THE  NORTH 

it  appeared  that  the  man  who  wrote  "  An  Island  of 
Sleep  "  was  at  least  capable  of  expressing  himself 
with  clearness  and  fluency,  and  possessed  the  skill  to 
pass  naturally  from  one  aspect  of  his  subject  to  an- 
other.    It  seemed  simple  enough.     .     .     . 

He  went  to  the  window. 

The  sky  was  a  delicate  amber,  and  Richard 
watched  it  change  to  rose,  and  from  rose  to  light 
blue.  The  gas-lamps  glared  out  in  quick  succes- 
sion; some  one  lowered  the  blind  of  a  window  op- 
posite his  own,  and  presently  a  woman's  profile  was 
silhouetted  against  it  for  a  moment,  and  then 
vanished.  A  melody  came  from  the  public  house, 
sung  in  a  raucous  baritone  to  the  thrumming  of  a 
guitar;  the  cries  of  the  playing  children  had  now 
ceased. 

Suddenly  turning  into  the  room,  he  was  astonished 
to  find  it  almost  in  darkness;  he  could  distinguish 
only  the  whiteness  of  the  papers  on  the  table. 

He  was  not  in  the  mood  for  writing  to-night. 
Some  men  wrote  best  in  the  evening,  others  in  the 
morning.  Probably  he  belonged  to  the  latter  class. 
Be  that  as  it  might,  he  would  rise  at  six  the  next 
morning  and  make  a  new  beginning.  "  It's  only  a 
question  of  practice,  of  course,"  he  said,  half  aloud, 
repressing  a  troublesome  dubiety.     He  would  take 


A  MAN  FROM  THE  NORTH         37 

a  short  walk,  and  go  early  to  bed.  Gradually  his 
self-confidence  returned. 

As  he  closed  the  front  door  there  was  a  rustic 
of  silks  and  a  transient  odour  of  violets;  a  woman 
had  gone  by.  She  turned  slightly  at  the  sound  of 
the  door,  and  Richard  had  a  glimpse  of  a  young  and 
pretty  face  under  a  spreading  hat,  a  full,  ripe  bust 
whose  alluring  contours  were  perfectly  disclosed  by 
a  tight-fitting  bodice,  and  two  small  white  hands, 
in  one  a  dangling  pair  of  gloves.  In  the  other  an 
umbrella.  He  passed  her,  and  waited  at  the  corner 
by  Tattersall's  till  she  overtook  him  again.  Now 
she  stood  on  the  kerb  within  six  feet  of  him,  hum- 
ming an  air  and  smiling  to  herself.  Up  went  the 
umbrella  to  signal  for  a  hansom. 

"  The  Ottoman,"  Richard  heard  her  say  across 
the  roof  of  the  cab,  the  driver  leaning  forward  with 
his  hand  to  his  ear.  iWhat  a  child's  voice  it  seemed, 
lisping  and  artless  I 

The  cabman  winked  at  Richard,  and  gently  flicked 
his  horse.  In  a  moment  the  hansom  was  two 
dwindling  specks  of  red  in  a  shifting  multitude  of 
lights. 

An  hour  later  he  saw  her  in  the  promenade  of  the 
theatre;  she  stood  against  a  pillar,  her  eyes  on  the 
entrance.     As  their  glances  met,  she  threw  her  head 


38  A  MAN  FROM  THE  NORTH 

a  little  backwards,  like  one  who  looks  through 
spectacles  on  the  end  of  his  nose,  and  showed  her 
teeth.     He  sat  down  near  her. 

Presently  she  waved  her  hand  to  a  man  who  was 
coming  in.  He  seemed  about  thirty,  with  small, 
clear  eyes,  bronzed  cheeks,  a  heavy  jaw,  and  a  closely 
trimmed  brown  moustache.  He  was  fashionably 
garbed,  though  not  In  evening  dress,  and  he  greeted 
her  without  raising  his  hat. 

"  Shall  we  have  a  drink?  "  she  suggested.  "  I  'm 
so  thirsty." 

"  Fizz?  "  the  man  drawled.     She  nodded. 

Soon  they  went  out  together,  the  man  carelessly 
stuffing  change  for  a  five-pound  note  into  his  pocket. 

"What's  the  difference  between  him  and  me?" 
Richard  reflected  as  he  walked  home.  "  But  just 
wait  a  bit;  wait  till  I  've     .     .     ." 

When  he  reached  his  lodging  the  meanness  of  the 
room,  of  his  clothes,  of  his  supper,  nauseated  him. 
He  dreamed  that  he  was  kissing  the  Ottoman  girl, 
and  that  she  lisped,  "  Nice  boy,"  whereupon  he  cast 
a  handful  of  sovereigns  on  her  lap. 

At  six  o'clock  the  next  morning  he  was  working 
at  his  article.  In  two  days  it  was  finished,  and  he 
had  despatched  it  to  a  monthly  magazine,  "  to- 
gether with  a  stamped  directed  envelope  for  Its  re- 
turn If  unsuitable,"  in  accordance  with  the  editorial 


A  MAN  FROM  THE  NORTH  39 

instructions  printed  below  the  table  of  contents  in 
every  number.  The  editor  of  the  "  Trifler " 
promised  that  all  manuscripts  so  submitted,  and 
written  on  one  side  of  the  paper  only,  should  be 
dealt  with  promptly. 

He  had  been  expecting  to  discuss  his  work  with 
Mr.  Aked  at  the  proposed  dinner,  but  this  had  not 
taken  place.  On  the  morning  after  the  arrange- 
ment had  been  made,  Mr.  Aked  fell  ill,  and  in  a 
few  days  he  wrote  to  resign  his  post,  saying  that  he 
had  sufficient  to  live  on,  and  felt  "  too  venerable  for 
regular  work." 

Richard  held  but  the  frailest  hope  that  "  A  City 
of  Sleep  "  would  be  accepted,  but  when  the  third 
morning  arrived,  and  the  postman  brought  nothing, 
his  opinion  of  the  article  began  to  rise.  Perhaps  It 
had  merit,  after  all;  he  recalled  certain  parts  of  it 
which  were  distinctly  clever  and  striking.  Hurry- 
ing home  from  the  office  that  afternoon,  he  met  the 
landlady's  daughter  on  the  stairs,  and  said  casually, — 

"  Any  letters  for  me,  Lily?  " 

"  No,  sir."     The  girl  had  an  attractive  blush. 

"  I'll  take  a  couple  of  eggs  for  tea,  If  Mrs.  Row- 
botham  has  them." 

He  remained  at  home  in  the  evening,  waiting  for 
the  last  delivery,  which  occurred  about  9  130.  The 
double  knocks  of  the  postman  were  audible  ten  or 


40         A  MAN  FROM  THE  NORTH 

twelve  houses  away.  At  last  Richard  heard  him 
mounting  the  steps  of  No.  74,  and  then  his  curt  rat- 
tat  shook  the  house.  A  little  thud  on  the  bare 
wooden  floor  of  the  hall  seemed  to  indicate  a  heavier 
package  than  the  ordinary  letter. 

As,  when  a  man  is  drowning,  the  bad  actions  of  a 
whole  lifetime  present  themselves  to  him  in  one 
awful  flash,  so  at  that  moment  all  the  faults,  the 
hopeless  crudities,  of  "  A  City  of  Sleep  "  confronted 
Richard.  He  wondered  at  his  own  fatuity  in  im- 
agining for  a  single  instant  that  the  article  had  the 
barest  chance  of  acceptance.  Was  it  not  notorious 
that  famous  authors  had  written  Industriously  for 
years  without  selling  a  line ! 

Lily  came  in  with  the  supper-tray.  She  was  smil- 
ing. 

"  Warm  work,  eh,  Lily?  "  he  said,  scarcely  know- 
ing that  he  spoke. 

"  Yes,  sir,  it 's  that  hot  in  the  kitchen  you  would  n't 
believe."  Setting  down  the  tray,  she  handed  him  a 
foolscap  envelope,  and  he  saw  his  own  handwriting 
as  if  in  a  dream. 

"For  me?"  he  murmured  carelessly,  and  placed 
the  letter  on  the  mantelpiece.  Lily  took  his  orders 
for  breakfast,  and  with  a  pleasant,  timid  "  Good- 
night, sir,"  left  the  room. 

He   opened   the    envelope.     In    the    fold   of   his 


A  MAN  FROM  THE  NORTH  41 

manuscript  was  a  sheet  of  the  best  cream-laid  note- 
paper  bearing  these  words  in  flowing  copperplate : 
"  The  Editor  presents  his  compliments  to  Mr.  Larch 
[written]  and  regrets  to  be  unable  to  use  the  enclosed 
article,  for  the  offer  of  which  he  is  much  obliged." 

The  sight  of  this  circular,  with  the  offices  of  the 
magazine  illustrated  at  the  top,  and  the  notification 
in  the  left-hand  corner  that  all  letters  must  be  ad- 
dressed to  the  editor  and  not  to  any  member  of  the 
staff  individually,  in  som'e  mysterious  way  mitigated 
Richard's  disappointment.  Perhaps  the  comfort  of 
it  lay  in  the  tangible  assurance  it  afforded  that  he 
was  now  actually  a  literary  aspirant  and  had  com- 
munications, however  mortifying,  with  the  press. 

He  read  the  circular  again  and  again  during  sup- 
per, and  determined  to  re-write  the  article.  But 
this  resolve  was  not  carried  out.  He  could  not 
bring  himself  even  to  glance  through  it,  and  finally  it 
was  sent  to  another  magazine  exactly  as  it  stood. 

Richard  had  determined  to  say  nothing  in  the  of- 
fice about  his  writing  until  he  could  produce  a  printed 
article  with  his  name  at  the  foot;  and  frequently  dur- 
ing the  last  few  days  his  mouth  had  watered  as  he 
anticipated  the  sweetness  of  that  triumph.  But  next 
day  he  could  not  refrain  from  showing  to  Jenkins 
the  note  from  the  "  Trifler."  Jenkins  seemed  im- 
pressed, especially  when  Richard  requested  him  to 


42  A  MAN  FROM  THE  NORTH 

treat  the  matter  as  confidential.  A  sort  of  friendship 
arose  between  them,  and  strengthened  as  time  went 
on.  Richard  sometimes  wondered  how  precisely  it 
had  come  about,  and  why  it  continued. 


CHAPTER  VII 

ALBERT  JENKINS  was  nineteen  years  of 
age,  and  lived  with  his  parents  and  seven 
brothers  and  sisters  in  Camberwell;  his 
father  managed  a  refreshment  bar  in  Oxford  Street. 
He  had  been  in  the  employ  of  Messrs.  Curpet  and 
Smythe  for  seven  years, —  first  as  junior  office  boy, 
then  as  senior  office  boy,  and  finally  as  junior  short- 
hand clerk.  He  was  of  the  average  height,  with 
a  shallow  chest,  and  thin  arms  and  legs.  His  feet 
were  very  small  —  he  often  referred  to  the  fact  with 
frank  complacency  —  and  were  always  encased  in 
well-fitting  hand-made  boots,  brightly  polished. 
The  rest  of  his  attire  was  less  remarkable  for  neat- 
ness; but  at  intervals  an  ambition  to  be  genteel  pos- 
sessed him,  and  during  these  recurrent  periods  the 
nice  conduct  of  his  fingernails  interfered  somewhat 
with  official  routine.  He  carried  his  hat  either  at 
the  back  of  his  head  or  tilted  almost  upon  the  bridge 
of  his  nose.  In  the  streets  he  generally  walked  with 
sedate  deliberation,  his  hands  deep  in  his  pockets, 
his  eyes  lowered,  and  an  enigmatic  smile  on  his  thin 
lips. 

43 


44         A  MAN  FROM  THE  NORTH 

His  countenance  was  of  a  pale  yellow  complexion 
just  tinged  with  red,  and  he  never  coloured;  his  neck 
was  a  darker  yellow.  Upon  the  whole,  his  features 
were  regular,  except  the  mouth,  which  was  large,  and 
protruded  like  a  monkey's;  the  eyes  were  grey,  with 
a  bold  regard,  which  not  seldom  was  excusably  mis- 
taken for  insolence. 

Considering  his  years,  Jenkins  was  a  highly  ac- 
complished person,  in  certain  directions.  Upon  all 
matters  connected  with  her  Majesty's  mail  and  in- 
land revenue,  upon  cab  fares,  bus-routes,  and  local 
railways,  upon  "  Pitman  outlines,"  and  upon  chamber 
practice  in  Chancery,  he  was  an  unquestioned  au- 
thority. He  knew  the  addresses  of  several  hundred 
London  solicitors,  the  locality  of  nearly  every  street 
and  square  within  the  four-mile  radius,  and,  within 
the  same  limits,  the  approximate  distance  of  any  one 
given  spot  from  any  other  given  spot. 

He  was  the  best  billiard-player  in  the  office,  and 
had  once  made  a  spot-barred  break  of  49 ;  this  game 
was  his  sole  pastime.  He  gambled  regularly  upon 
horse-races,  resorting  to  a  number  of  bookmakers, 
but  neither  winning  nor  losing  to  an  appreciable  ex- 
tent; no  less  than  three  jockeys  occasionally  per- 
mitted him  to  enjoy  their  companionship,  and  he  was 
never  without  a  stable-tip. 

His  particular  hobby,   however,  was  restaurants. 


I 


A  MAN  FROM  THE  NORTH         45 

He  spent  half  his  income  upon  food,  and  quite  half 
his  waking  hours  either  in  deciding  what  he  should 
consume,  or  In  actual  drinking  and  mastication.  He 
had  personally  tested  the  merits  of  every  bar  and 
house  of  refreshment  in  the  neighbourhood  of  the 
Law  Courts,  from  Lockhart's  to  Gatti's,  and  would 
discourse  for  hours  on  their  respective  virtues  and 
defects.  No  restaurant  was  too  mean  for  his 
patronage,  and  none  too  splendid;  for  days  In  suc- 
cession he  would  dine  upon  a  glass  of  water  and  a 
captain  biscuit  with  cheese.  In  order  to  accumulate 
resources  for  a  delicate  repast  in  one  of  the  gilded 
establishments  where  the  rich  are  wont  to  sustain 
themselves;  and  he  had  acquired  from  his  father  a 
quantity  of  curious  lore,  throwing  light  upon  the 
secrets  of  the  refreshment  trade,  which  enabled  him 
to  spend  the  money  thus  painfully  amassed  to  the 
best  advantage. 

Jenkins  was  a  cockney  and  the  descendant  of 
cockneys;  he  conversed  always  volubly  in  the  dialect 
of  Camberwell;  but  just  as  he  was  subject  to  attacks 
of  modishness,  so  at  times  he  attempted  to  rid  him- 
self of  his  accent,  of  course  without  success.  He 
swore  habitually,  and  used  no  reticence  whatever,  ex- 
cept in  the  presence  of  his  employers  and  of  Mr. 
Alder  the  manager.  In  quick  and  effective  retort 
he  was  the  peer  of  cabmen,  and  nothing  could  abash 


46  A  MAN  FROM  THE  NORTH 

him.  His  favourite  subjects  of  discussion  were 
restaurants,  as  before  mentioned,  billiards,  the  turf, 
and  women,  whom  he  usually  described  as  "  tarts." 
It  was  his  custom  to  refer  to  himself  as  a  "  devil  for 
girls,"  and  when  Mr.  Alder  playfully  accused  him 
of  adventures  with  females  of  easy  virtue,  his  de- 
light was  unbounded. 

There  were  moments  when  Richard  loathed 
Jenkins,  when  the  gross  and  ribald  atmosphere  which 
attended  Jenkin's  presence  nauseated  him,  and  ut- 
ter solitude  in  London  seemed  preferable  to  the 
boy's  company;  but  these  passed,  and  the  intimacy 
throve.  Jenkins,  indeed,  had  his  graces;  he  was  of 
an  exceedingly  generous  nature,  and  his  admiration 
for  the  deep  literary  scholarship  which  he  imagined 
Richard  to  possess  was  ingenuous  and  unconcealed. 
His  own  agile  wit,  his  picturesque  use  of  slang,  his 
facility  in  new  oaths,  and  above  all  his  exact  knowl- 
edge of  the  byways,  and  backwaters  of  London  life, 
endowed  him,  in  Richard's  unaccustomed  eyes,  with 
a  certain  specious  attractiveness.  Moreover,  the  fact 
that  they  shared  the  same  room  and  performed  simi- 
lar duties  made  familiar  intercourse  between  them 
natural  and  necessary.  With  no  other  member  of 
the  staff  did  Richard  care  to  associate.  The  articled 
clerks,  though  courteously  agreeable  to  everyone, 
formed  an  exclusive  coterie ;  and  as  for  the  rest,  they 


I 


A  MAN  FROM  THE  NORTH  47 

were  either  old  or  dull,  or  both.  He  often  debated 
whether  he  should  seek  out  Mr.  Aked,  who  was  now 
recovered,  and  had  once,  unfortunately  In  Richard's 
absence,  called  at  the  office;  but  at  length  he  timidly 
decided  that  the  extent  of  their  acquaintance  would 
not  warrant  it. 

"Where  shall  we  go  to  lunch  to-day?"  was  al- 
most the  first  question  which  Richard  and  Jenkins 
asked  each  other  in  the  morning,  and  a  prolonged 
discussion  would  follow.  They  called  the  meal 
"  lunch,"  but  it  was  really  their  dinner,  though 
neither  of  them  ever  admitted  the  fact. 

Jenkins  had  a  predilection  for  grill-rooms,  where 
raw  chops  and  steaks  lay  on  huge  dishes,  and  each 
customer  chose  his  own  meat  and  superintended  its 
cooking.  A  steak,  tender  and  perfectly  cooked,  with 
baked  potatoes  and  half  a  pint  of  stout,  was  his  ideal 
repast,  and  he  continually  lamented  that  no  restau- 
rant in  London  offered  such  cheer  at  the  price  of  one 
shilling  and  threepence,  including  the  waiter.  The 
cheap  establishments  were  never  satisfactory,  and 
Jenkins  only  frequented  them  when  the  state  of  his 
purse  left  no  alternative.  In  company  with  Richard 
he  visited  every  new  eating-house  that  made  its  ap- 
pearance, in  the  hope  of  finding  the  restaurant  of  his 
dreams,  and  though  each  was  a  disappointment,  yet 
the   search   still   went   on.     The   place   which   most 


48         A  MAN  FROM  THE  NORTH 

nearly  coincided  with  his  desires  was  the  "  Sceptre," 
a  low,  sombre  room  between  the  Law  Courts  and  the 
river,  used  by  well-to-do  managing  clerks  and  a 
sprinkling  of  junior  barristers.  Here,  lounging  lux- 
uriously on  red  plush  seats,  and  in  full  sight  and 
hearing  of  a  large  silver  grill,  the  two  spent  many 
luncheon  hours,  eating  slowly,  with  gross,  sensual 
enjoyment,  and  secretly  elated  by  the  proximity  of 
men  older  and  more  prosperous  than  themselves, 
whom  they  met  on  equal  terms. 

Richard  once  suggested  that  they  should  try  one 
of  the  French  restaurants  in  Soho  which  Mr.  Aked 
had  mentioned. 

"  Not  me!  "  said  Jenkins,  In  reply.  "  You  don't 
catch  me  going  to  those  parley-voo  shops  again.  I 
went  once.  They  give  you  a  lot  of  little  messes, 
faked  up  from  yesterday's  dirty  plates,  and  after 
you  Ve  eaten  half  a  dozen  of  'em  you  don't  feel  a 
bit  fuller.  Give  me  a  steak  and  a  potato.  I  like 
to  know  what  I'm  eating." 

He  had  an  equal  detestation  of  vegetarian  restau- 
rants, but  once,  during  a  period  of  financial  depres- 
sion, he  agreed  to  accompany  Richard,  who  knew  the 
place  fairly  well,  to  the  "  Crabtree  "  in  Charing 
Cross  Roads,  and  though  he  grumbled  roundly  at  the 
Insubstantiality  of  the  three-course  dinner  a  la  carte 
which  could  be  obtained  for  sixpence,  he  made  no 


A  MAN  FROM  THE  NORTH  49 

difficulty,  afterwards,  about  dining  there  whenever 
prudence  demanded  the  narrowest  economy. 

An  air  of  chill  and  prim  discomfort  pervaded  the 
Crabtree,  and  the  mingled  odour  of  lentils  and  sul- 
tana pudding  filled  every  corner.  The  tables  were 
narrow,  and  the  chairs  unyielding.  The  customers 
were  for  the  most  eccentric  as  to  dress  and  demean- 
our; they  had  pale  faces,  and  during  their  melan- 
choly meals  perused  volumes  obviously  instructive, 
or  debated  the  topics  of  the  day  in  platitudinous  con- 
versations unspiced  by  a  single  oath.  Young  women 
with  whom  their  personal  appearance  was  a  negli- 
gible quantity  came  In  large  numbers,  and  either 
giggled  to  one  another  without  restraint  or  sat  erect 
and  glared  at  the  males  in  a  manner  which  cowed 
even  Jenkins.  The  waitresses  lacked  understanding, 
and  seemed  to  resent  even  the  most  courteous  ad- 
vances. 

One  day,  just  as  they  were  beginning  dinner, 
Jenkins  eagerly  drew  Richard's  attention  to  the  girl 
at  the  pay-desk.     "  See  that  girl?"  he  said. 

"  What  about  her?     Is  she  a  new  one?  " 

"  Why,  she  's  the  tart  that  old  Aked  used  to  be 
after." 

"  Was  she  at  that  A.  B.  C.  shop  In  the  Strand?  " 
said  Richard,  who  began  to  remember  the  girl's  fea- 
tures and  her  reddish  brown  hair. 


50         A  MAN  FROM  THE  NORTH 

"  Yes,  that 's  her.  Before  she  was  at  the  A.  B.  C. 
she  was  cashier  at  that  boiled-beef  place  opposite 
the  Courts,  but  they  say  she  got  the  sack  for  talking 
to  customers  too  much.  She  and  Aked  were  very 
thick  then,  and  he  went  there  every  day.  I  sup- 
pose his  courting  interfered  with  business." 

"  But  he  's  old  enough  to  be  her  father!  " 

"  Yes.  He  ought  to  have  been  ashamed  of  him- 
self.    She  's  not  a  bad  kind,  eh?  " 

"  There  was  n't  anything  between  them,  really, 
was  there?  " 

"  I  don't  know.  There  might  have  been.  He 
followed  her  to  the  A.  B.  C,  and  I  think  he  some- 
times took  her  home.  Her  name  's  Roberts.  We 
used  to  have  him  on  about  her  —  rare  fun." 

The  story  annoyed  Richard,  for  his  short  tete-a- 
tete  with  Mr.  Aked  had  remained  in  his  mind  as  a 
pleasant  memory,  and  though  he  was  aware  that  the 
old  man  had  been  treated  with  scant  respect  by  the 
youngsters  in  the  office,  ne  had  acquired  the  habit  of 
mentally  regarding  him  with  admiration,  as  a  repre- 
sentative of  literature.  This  attachment  to  a  restau- 
rant cashier,  clearly  a  person  of  no  refinement  or  in- 
tellect, scarcely  fitted  with  his  estimate  of  the 
journalist  who  had  spoken  to  Carlyle. 

During  the  meal  he  surreptitiously  glanced  at  the 
girl  several  times.     She  was  plumper  than  before, 


A  MAN  FROM  THE  NORTH  51 

and  her  cough  seemed  to  be  cured.  Her  face  was 
pleasant,  and  undoubtedly  she  had  a  magnificent  coif- 
fure. 

When  they  presented  their  checks,  Jenkins  bowed 
awkwardly,  and  she  smiled.  He  swore  to  Richard 
that  next  time  he  would  mention  Mr.  Aked's  name 
to  her.  The  vow  was  broken.  She  was  willing  to 
exchange  civilities,  but  her  manner  indicated  with 
sufficient  clearness  that  a  line  was  to  be  drawn. 

In  the  following  week,  when  Richard  happened  to 
be  at  the  Crabtree  alone,  at  a  later  hour  than  usual, 
they  had  rather  a  long  conversation. 

"Is  Mr.  Aked  still  at  your  office?"  she  asked, 
looking  down  at  her  account  books. 

Richard  told  what  he  knew. 

"  Oh  I  "  she  said,  "  I  often  used  to  see  him,  and 
he  gave  me  some  lozenges  that  cured  a  bad  cough 
I  had.     Nice  old  fellow,  wasn't  he?" 
Yes,  I  fancy  so,"  Richard  assented. 
I  thought  I  'd  just  ask,  as  I  had  n't  seen  him 
about  for  a  long  time." 

"  Good  afternoon  —  Miss  Roberts." 

"  Good  afternoon  —  Mr. " 

"  Larch." 

They  both  laughed. 

A  trivial  dispute  with  Jenkins,  a  few  days  later, 
disclosed  the  fact  that  that  haunter  of  bars  had  a 


52         A  MAN  FROM  THE  NORTH 

sullen  temper,  and  that  his  displeasure,  once  aroused, 
was  slow  to  disappear.  Richard  dined  alone  again 
at  the  Crabtree,  and  after  another  little  conversa- 
tion with  Miss  Roberts,  having  time  at  his  disposal, 
he  called  at  the  public  library  in  St.  Martin's  Lane. 
In  a  half-crown  review  he  saw  an  article,  by  a  writer 
of  considerable  repute,  entitled  "  To  Literary  As- 
pirants," which  purported  to  demonstrate  that  a 
mastery  of  the  craft  of  words  was  only  to  be  attained 
by  a  regular  course  of  technical  exercises;  the  nature 
of  these  exercises  was  described  in  detail.  There 
were  references  to  the  unremitting  drudgery  of  Flau- 
bert, de  Maupassant,  and  Stevenson,  together  with 
extracts  chosen  to  illustrate  the  slow  passage  of  the 
last-named  author  from  inspired  incompetence  to  the 
serene  and  perfect  proficiency  before  which  all  dif- 
ficulties melted.  After  an  unqualified  statement 
that  any  man  —  slowly  If  without  talent,  quickly  if 
gifted  by  nature  —  might  with  determined  applica- 
tion learn  to  write  finely,  the  essayist  concluded  by 
remarking  that  never  before  in  the  history  of  litera- 
ture had  young  authors  been  so  favourably  circum- 
stanced as  at  that  present.  Lastly  came  the  maxim, 
Nulla  dies  sine  linea. 

Richard's  cooling  enthusiasm  for  letters  leaped 
into  flame.  He  had  done  no  writing  whatever  for 
several  weeks,  but  that  night  saw  him  desperately 


A  MAN  FROM  THE  NORTH  53 

at  work.  He  took  advantage  of  the  quarrel  to 
sever  all  save  the  most  formal  connection  with 
Jenkins,  dined  always  frugally  at  the  Crabtree,  and 
spent  every  evening  at  his  lodging.  The  thought  of 
Alphonse  Daudet  writing  "  Les  Amoureuses  "  in  a 
Parisian  garret  supported  him  through  an  entire 
month  of  toil,  during  which,  besides  assiduously  prac- 
tising the  recommended  exercises,  he  wrote  a  com- 
plete short  story  and  began  several  essays.  About 
this  time  his  "  City  of  Sleep  "  was  returned  upon 
his  hands  in  a  condition  so  filthy  and  ragged  that 
he  was  moved  to  burn  it.  The  short  story  was 
offered  to  an  evening  daily,  and  never  heard  of 
again. 

It  occurred  to  him  that  possibly  he  possessed  some 
talent  for  dramatic  criticism,  and  one  Saturday  even- 
ing he  went  to  the  first  performance  of  a  play  at 
the  St.  George's  theatre.  After  waiting  for  an  hour 
outside,  he  got  a  seat  in  the  last  row  of  the  pit. 
Eagerly  he  watched  the  critics  take  their  places  in 
the  stalls;  they  chatted  languidly,  smiling  and  bow- 
ing now  and  then  to  acquaintances  in  the  boxes  and 
dress  circle;  the  pit  was  excited  and  loquacious,  and 
Richard  discovered  that  nearly  everyone  round  about 
him  made  a  practice  of  attending  first  nights,  and  had 
an  Intimate  knowledge  of  the  personnel  of  the  stage. 
Through  the  hum  of  voices  the  overture  to  "  Rosa- 


54         A  MAN  FROM  THE  NORTH 

mund  "  fitfully  reached  him.  During  whole  bars 
the  music  was  lost;  then  some  salient  note  caught  the 
ear,  and  the  melody  became  audible  again  until  an- 
other wave  of  conversation  engulfed  it. 

The  conclusion  of  the  last  act  was  greeted  with 
frenzied  hand-clapping,  beating  of  sticks,  and  inar- 
ticulate cries,  while  above  the  general  noise  was  heard 
the  repeated  monosyllable  "  'thor,  'thor."  After 
what  seemed  an  interminable  delay  the  curtain  was 
drawn  back  at  one  side  and  a  tall  man  in  evening 
dress,  his  face  a  dead  white,  stepped  before  the  foot- 
lights and  bowed  several  times;  the  noise  rose  to  a 
thunderous  roar,  in  which  howls  and  hissing  were 
distinguishable.  Richard  shook  from  head  to  foot, 
and  tears  unaccountably  came  to  his  eyes. 

The  whole  of  Sunday  and  Monday  evening  were 
occupied  in  writing  a  detailed  analysis  and  apprecia- 
tion of  the  play.  On  Tuesday  morning  he  bought 
a  weekly  paper  which  devoted  special  attention  to 
the  drama,  in  order  to  compare  his  own  view  with 
that  of  an  acknowledged  authority,  and  found  that 
the  production  was  dismissed  in  ten  curt  lines  as  mere 
amiable  drivel. 

A  few  days  afterwards  Mr.  Curpet  offered  him  the 
position  of  cashier  in  the  office,  at  a  salary  of  three 
pounds  a  week.  His  income  was  exactly  doubled, 
and  the  disappointments  of  unsuccessful  authorship 


A  MAN  FROM  THE  NORTH  55 

suddenly  ceased  to  trouble  him.  He  began  to  doubt 
the  wisdom  of  making  any  further  attempt  towards 
literature.  Was  it  not  clear  that  his  talents  lay  in 
the  direction  of  business?  Nevertheless  a  large 
part  of  his  spare  cash  was  devoted  to  the  purchase  of 
books,  chiefly  the  productions  of  a  few  celebrated  old 
continental  presses,  which  he  had  recently  learned  to 
value.  He  prepared  a  scheme  for  educating  himself 
in  the  classical  tongues  and  in  French,  and  the  prac- 
tice of  writing  was  abandoned  to  make  opportunity 
for  the  pursuit  of  culture.  But  culture  proved  to  be 
shy  and  elusive.  He  adhered  to  no  regular  course 
of  study,  and  though  he  read  much,  his  progress  to- 
wards knowledge  was  almost  imperceptible. 

Other  distractions  presented  themselves  in  the 
shape  of  music  and  painting.  He  discovered  that  he 
was  not  without  critical  taste  in  both  these  arts,  and 
he  became  a  frequenter  of  concerts  and  picture-gal- 
leries. He  bought  a  piano  on  the  hire-purchase  sys- 
tem, and  took  lessons  thereon.  In  this  and  other 
ways  his  expenditure  swelled  till  it  more  than  swal- 
lowed up  the  income  of  three  pounds  a  week  which 
not  long  before  he  had  regarded  as  something  very 
like  wealth.  For  many  weeks  he  made  no  effort  to 
adjust  the  balance,  until  his  debts  approached  the 
sum  of  twenty  pounds,  nearly  half  of  which  was  ow- 
ing to  his  landlady.     He  had  to  go  through  more 


56         A  MAN  FROM  THE  NORTH 

than  one  humiliating  scene  before  an  era  of  economy 
set  in. 

One  afternoon  he  received  a  telegram  to  say  that 
William  Vernon  had  died  very  suddenly.  It  was 
signed  "  Alice  Clayton  Vernon."  Mrs.  Vernon  was 
William's  stately  cousin-in-law,  and  Richard,  to  whom 
she  had  spoken  only  once, —  soon  after  Mary's  wed- 
ding,—  regarded  her  with  awe;  he  disliked  her  be- 
cause he  found  It  Impossible  to  be  at  ease  in  her  Im- 
posing presence.  As  he  went  Into  Mr.  Curpet's 
room  to  ask  for  leave  of  absence,  his  one  feeling  was 
annoyance  at  the  prospect  of  having  to  meet  her 
again.  William's  death,  to  his  own  astonishment, 
scarcely  affected  him  at  all. 

Mr.  Curpet  readily  granted  him  two  days'  holi- 
day, and  he  arranged  to  go  down  to  Bursley  the  fol- 
lowing night  for  the  funeral. 


CHAPTER  VIII 

WEARIED  of  sitting,  Richard  folded  his 
overcoat  pillow-wise,  put  It  under  his 
head,  and  extended  himself  on  the 
polished  yellow  wood.  But  in  vain  were  his  eyes 
shut  tight.  Sleep  would  not  come,  though  he 
yawned  incessantly.  The  monstrous  beat  of  the  en- 
gine, the  quick  rattle  of  windows,  and  the  grinding 
of  wheels  were  fused  into  a  fantastic  resonance  which 
occupied  every  corner  of  the  carriage  and  invaded 
his  very  skull.  Then  a  light  tapping  on  the  roof, 
one  of  those  mysterious  sounds  which  make  a  com- 
partment in  a  night-train  like  a  haunted  room,  mo- 
mentarily silenced  everything  else,  and  he  wished  that 
he  had  not  been  alone. 

Suddenly  jumping  up,  he  put  away  all  Idea  of 
sleep,  and  lowered  the  window.  It  was  pitch  dark; 
vague  changing  shapes,  which  might  have  been  either 
trees  or  mere  fancies  of  the  groping  eye,  outlined 
themselves  a  short  distance  away;  far  in  front  was  a 
dull  glare  from  the  engine,  and  behind  twinkled  the 
guard's  lamp.     .     .     .     In  a  few  seconds  he  closed 

57 


58  A  MAN  FROM  THE  NORTH 

the  window  again,  chilled  to  the  bone,  though  May 
was  nearly  at  an  end. 

The  thought  occurred  to  him  that  he  was  now  a 
solitary  upon  the  face  of  the  earth.     It  concerned  no 
living  person  whether  he  did  evil  or  good.     If  he 
chose  to  seek  ruin,  to  abandon  himself  to  the  most 
ignoble  Impulses,  there  was  none  to  restrain, —  not 
even  a  brother-in-law.     For  several  weeks  past,  he 
had  been  troubled  about  his  future,  afraid  to  face  it. 
Certainly  London  satisfied  him,  and  the  charm  of  liv- 
ing there  had  not  perceptibly  grown  less.     He  re- 
joiced in  London,  in  its  vistas,  its  shops,  its  unend- 
ing crowds,  its  vastness.  Its  wickedness;  each  dream 
dreamed  about  London  In  childhood  had  come  true ; 
and  surer  than  ever  before  was  the  consciousness  that 
in  going  to  London  he  had  fulfilled  his  destiny.     Yet 
there  was  something  to  lack  in  himself.     His  con- 
fidence in  his  own  abilities  and  his  own  character  was 
being  undermined.     Nearly  a  year  had  gone,  and  he 
had  made  no  progress,  except  at  the  office.     Resolu- 
tions were  constantly  broken;  it  was  three  months 
since  he  had  despatched  an  article  to  a  newspaper. 
He  had  not  even  followed  a  definite  course  of  study, 
and  though  his   acquaintance  with   modern   French 
fiction  had  widened,  he  could  boast  no  exact  scholar- 
ship even  In  that  piquant  field.     Evening  after  even- 


A  MAN  FROM  THE  NORTH  59 

ing  —  ah !  those  long,  lamplit  evenings  which  were  to 
be  given  to  strenuous  effort!  —  was  frittered  away 
upon  mean  banalities,  sometimes  in  the  company  of 
some  casual  acquaintance  and  sometimes  alone.  He 
had  by  no  means  grasped  the  full  import  and  extent 
of  this  retrogression;  it  was  merely  beginning  to  dis- 
turb his  self-complacence,  and  perhaps,  ever  so 
slightly,  his  sleep.  But  now,  hurrying  to  the  funeral 
of  William  Vernon,  he  lazily  laughed  at  himself  for 
having  allowed  his  peace  of  mind  to  be  ruffled. 
Why  bother  about  "getting  on"?  What  did  it 
matter  ? 

He  still  experienced  but  little  sorrow  at  the  death 
of  Vernon.  His  affection  for  the  man  had  strangely 
faded.  During  the  nine  months  that  he  had  lived 
in  London  they  had  scarcely  written  to  one  another, 
and  Richard  regarded  the  long  journey  to  attend 
William's  obsequies  as  a  tiresome  concession  to  pro- 
priety. 

That  was  his  real  attitude,  had  he  cared  to  examine 
It. 

At  about  four  o'clock  It  was  quite  light,  and  the 
risen  sun  woke  Richard  from  a  brief  doze.  The  dew 
lay  in  the  hollows  of  the  fields  but  elsewhere  there 
was  a  soft,  fresh  clearness  which  gave  to  the  common 
Incidents  of  the  flying  landscape  a  new  and  virginal 


'6o         A  MAN  FROM  THE  NORTH 

beauty  —  as  though  that  had  been  the  morn  of  crea- 
tion itself.  The  cattle  were  stirring,  and  turned  to 
watch  the  train  as  it  slipped  by. 

Richard  opened  the  window  again.  His  mood 
had  changed,  and  he  felt  unreasonably  joyous. 
Last  night  he  had  been  too  pessimistic.  Life  lay 
yet  before  him,  and  time  enough  to  rectify  any  indis- 
cretions of  which  he  might  have  been  guilty.  The 
future  was  his,  to  use  as  he  liked.  Magnificent,  con- 
soling thought !  Moved  by  some  symbolic  associa- 
tion of  ideas,  he  put  his  head  out  of  the  window  and 
peered  in  the  direction  of  the  train's  motion.  A 
cottage  stood  alone  in  the  midst  of  Innumerable 
meadows;  as  it  crossed  his  vision,  the  door  opened, 
and  a  young  woman  came  out  with  an  empty  pail 
swinging  in  her  left  hand.  Apparently  she  would  be 
about  twenty-seven,  plump  and  sturdy  and  straight. 
Her  hair  was  loose  about  her  round,  contented  face, 
and  with  her  disengaged  hand  she  rubbed  her  eyes, 
still  puffed  and  heavy  with  sleep.  She  wore  a  pink 
print  gown,  the  bodice  of  which  was  unfastened,  dis- 
closing a  white  undergarment  and  the  rich  hemis- 
pheres of  her  bosom.  In  an  instant  the  scene  was 
hidden  by  a  curve  of  the  line,  and  the  interminable 
succession  of  fields  resumed,  but  Richard  had  time  to 
guess  from  her  figure  that  the  woman  was  the  mother 
of  a  small  family.     He  pictured  her  husband  still 


A  MAN  FROM  THE  NORTH         ^i 

unconscious  in  the  warm  bed  which  she  had  just 
left;  he  even  saw  the  impress  of  her  head  on  the 
pillow,  and  a  long  nightdress  thrown  hastily  across 
a  chair. 

He  was  deeply  and  indescribably  affected  by  this 
suggestion  of  peaceful  married  love  set  in  so  great 
a  solitude.  The  woman  and  her  hypothetical  hus- 
band and  children  were  only  peasants,  their  lives  were 
probably  narrow  and  their  intellects  dormant,  yet 
they  aroused  in  him  a  feeling  of  envy  which  surged 
about  his  brain  and  for  the  moment  asphyxiated 
thought.     ... 

Later  on  the  train  slackened  speed  as  it  passed 
through  a  shunting-yard.  The  steam  from  the  light 
shunting-engine  rose  with  cloud-like  delicacy  in  the 
clear  air,  and  an  occasional  short  whistle  seemed  to 
have  something  of  the  quality  of  a  bird's  note.  The 
men  with  their  long  poles  moved  blithely  among  the 
medley  of  rails,  signalling  one  another  with  motions 
of  the  arm.  The  coupling-chains  rang  with  a  merry, 
giant  tinkle,  and  when  the  engine  brought  its  load 
of  waggons  to  a  standstill,  and  a  smart,  metallic 
bump,  bump,  bump  ran  diminuendo  from  waggon  to 
waggon,  one  might  have  fancied  that  some  leviathan 
game  was  being  played.  Richard  forgot  the  girl 
M^ith  the  pail,  and  soon  after  went  to  sleep. 

At  six  o'clock  the  train  reached  Knype,  where  he 


62  A  MAN  FROM  THE  NORTH 

had  to  change.  Two  women  with  several  children 
also  alighted,  and  he  noticed  how  white  and  fatigued 
were  their  faces;  the  children  yawned  pitifully.  An 
icy,  searching  wind  blew  through  the  station ;  the  ex- 
hilaration of  the  dawn  was  gone,  and  a  spirit  of 
utter  woe  and  disaster  brooded  over  everything. 
For  the  first  time  WiUiam's  death  really  touched 
him. 

The  streets  of  Bursley  were  nearly  empty  as  he 
walked  through  the  town  from  the  railway  station, 
for  the  industrial  population  was  already  at  work  in 
the  manufactories,  and  the  shops  not  yet  open.  Yet 
Richard  avoided  the  main  thoroughfares,  choosing  a 
circuitous  route  lest  he  might  by  chance  encounter 
an  acquaintance.  He  foresaw  the  inevitable  banal 
dialogue :  — 

"  Well,  how  do  you  like  London?  " 

"Oh,  it's  fine!" 

"  Getting  on  all  right?" 

"  Yes,  thanks." 

And  then  the  effort  of  two  secretly  bored  persons 
to  continue  a  perfunctory  conversation  unaided  by  a 
single  mutual  Interest. 

A  carriage  was  driving  away  from  the  Red  House 
just  as  Richard  got  within  sight  of  It;  he  nodded  to 
the  venerable  coachman,  who  gravely  touched  his 
hat.     The  owner  of  the  carriage  was  Mr.  Clayton 


A  MAN  FROM  THE  NORTH  6^ 

Vernon,  William's  cousin  and  an  alderman  of  Burs- 
ley,  and  Richard  surmised  that  Mrs.  Clayton  Ver- 
non had  put  herself  in  charge  of  the  place  until  the 
funeral  should  be  over.  He  trembled  at  the  pros- 
pect of  a  whole  day  to  be  spent  In  the  company  of 
these  excellent  people,  whom  William  had  always  re- 
ferred to  with  a  smile,  and  yet  not  without  a  great 
deal  of  respect.  The  Clayton  Vernons  were  the 
chief  buttress  of  respectability  in  the  town;  rich, 
strictly  religious,  philanthropic,  and  above  all  digni- 
fied. Everyone  looked  up  to  them  instinctively,  and 
had  they  possessed  but  one  vice  between  them,  they 
would  have  been  loved. 

Mrs.  Clayton  Vernon  herself  opened  the  door. 
She  was  a  stately  woman  of  advanced  middle  age, 
with  a  sauve,  imperious  manner. 

"  I  left  Clayton  to  have  breakfast  by  himself,"  she 
said,  as  she  led  Richard  into  the  sitting-room;  "I 
thought  you  would  like  someone  here  to  welcome  you 
after  your  long  night  journey.  Breakfast  will  be 
ready  almost  directly.  How  tired  you  must  be ! 
Clayton  said  it  was  a  pity  you  should  come  by  the 
night  train,  but  of  course  it  is  quite  right  that  you 
should  inconvenience  your  employers  as  little  as  pos- 
sible, quite  right.  And  we  admire  you  for  it. 
Now  will  you  run  upstairs  and  wash?  You  've  not 
forgotten  the  way?     .     .     ." 


64         A  MAN  FROM  THE  NORTH 

The  details  of  the  funeral  had  been  settled  by  Mr. 
Clayton  Vernon,  who  was  the  chief  mourner,  and 
Richard  had  nothing  to  do  but  fall  In  with  precon- 
certed plans  and  answer  decourously  when  spoken  to. 
The  arrangement  was  satisfactory  in  that  it  relieved 
him  from  duties  which  would  have  been  irksome,  but 
scarcely  gratifying  to  his  pride.  He  had  lived  nearly 
all  his  life  in  that  house,  and  had  known  the  dead 
man  perhaps  more  intimately  than  anyone  else  pres- 
ent. However,  he  found  it  convenient  to  efface  him- 
self. 

In  the  evening  there  was  an  elaborate  tea  at  which 
were  present  the  Clayton  Vernons  and  the  minister 
who  had  conducted  the  funeral  service.  The 
minister  and  the  alderman  left  immediately  after- 
wards to  attend  a  meeting,  and  when  they  were  gone 
Mrs.  Clayton  Vernon  said, — 

"  Now  we  are  all  alone,  Richard.  Go  Into  the 
drawing-room  and  I  will  follow.  I  do  want  to  have 
a  chat  with  you." 

She  came  In  with  needle  and  thread  and  scissors. 

"  If  you  will  take  off  your  coat,  I  will  stitch  on  that 
button  that  is  hanging  by  one  thread.  I  noticed  it 
this  morning,  and  then  it  went  quite  out  of  my  mind. 
I  am  so  sorry!  " 

"Oh,  thanks!"  he  blushed  hotly.  "But  I  can 
stitch  myself,  you  know — " 


A  MAN  FROM  THE  NORTH  65 

"  Come,  you  need  n't  be  shy  of  an  old  woman  see- 
ing you  In  your  shirt-sleeves.     Do  as  I  ask." 

He  doffed  the  coat. 

"  I  always  like  young  men  to  be  immaculately 
neat,"  she  said,  cutting  off  a  piece  of  cotton.  "  One's 
personal  character  is  an  index  to  one's  character, 
don't  you  think?  Of  course  you  do.  Here,  thread 
the  needle  for  me.  I  am  afraid  since  your  dear 
sister  died  you  have  grown  a  little  careless,  eh?  She 
was  most  particular.  Ah,  what  a  mother  she  was  to 
you !  " 

"  Yes,"  said  Richard. 

"  I  was  very  grieved  to  see  you  go  to  the  funeral 
in  a  soft  hat  —  Richard,  really  I  was.  It  wasn't 
respectful  to  your  brother-in-law's  memory." 

"  I  never  thought.  You  see,  I  started  in  rather 
a  hurry."  The  fact  was  that  he  had  no  silk  hat,  nor 
could  he  easily  afford  to  buy  one. 

"  But  you  should  think,  my  dear  boy.  Even  Clay- 
ton was  shocked.     Are  those  your  best  clothes?  " 

Richard  answered  that  they  were.  He  sheepishly 
protested  that  he  never  bothered  about  clothes. 

There  was  a  silence,  broken  by  her  regular  stitch- 
ing. At  last  she  handed  him  the  coat  and  helped  him 
to  put  it  on.  He  went  to  the  old  green  sofa,  and 
somewhat  to  his  dismay  she  sat  down  by  his  side. 

"  Richard,"  she  began,  in  a  changed,  soft  voice, 


66  A  MAN  FROM  THE  NORTH 

and  not  without  emotion,  "  do  you  know  we  are  ex- 
pecting great  things  from  you?" 

"  But  you  should  n't.  I  'm  a  very  ordinary  sort  of 
person." 

"  No,  no.  That  you  are  not.  God  has  given  you 
great  talents,  and  you  must  use  them.  Poor  Wil- 
liam always  used  to  say  that  you  were  highly  gifted 
and  might  do  great  things." 

"Might!" 

"  Yes  —  if  you  tried." 

"  But  how  am  I  gifted?  And  what '  great  things  ' 
are  expected?"  he  asked,  perhaps  angling  for  fur- 
ther flattering  disclosures. 

"  I  cannot  answer  that,"  said  Mrs.  Clayton  Ver- 
non ;  "  it  Is  for  you  to  answer.  You  have  given  all 
your  friends  the  impression  that  you  would  do  some- 
thing worth  doing.  You  have  raised  hopes,  and  you 
must  not  disappoint  them.  We  believe  in  you, 
Richard.     That  Is  all  I  can  say." 

"  That 's  all  very  well;  but — "  He  stopped  and 
played  with  the  seal  on  his  watch-chain.  "  The  fact 
is,  I  am  working,  you  know.  I  want  to  be  an  author 
—  at  least  a  journalist." 

"Ah!" 

"  It 's  a  slow  business  —  at  first  — "  Suddenly 
moved  to  be  confidential,  he  went  on  to  give  her  some 


A  MAN  FROM  THE  NORTH  67 

account,  Incomplete  and  judiciously  edited,  of  his  life 
during  the  past  year. 

"  You  have  relieved  my  mind  greatly,  and  Clayton 
will  be  so  glad.     We  were  beginning  to  think  — " 

"  Why  were  you  '  beginning  to  think  '  ?  " 

"  Well,  never  mind  now." 

"But  why?" 

"  Never  mind.  I  have  full  confidence  in  you,  and 
I  am  sure  you  will  get  on.  Poor  boy,  you  have  no 
near  connections  or  relatives  now?" 

"No,   none." 

"  You  must  look  on  Clayton  and  myself  as  very 
near  relatives.  We  have  no  children,  but  our  hearts 
are  large.  I  shall  expect  you  to  write  to  me  some- 
times and  to  come  and  stay  with  us  now  and  then." 


CHAPTER  IX 

IN  the  centre  of  the  reading-room  at  the  British 
Museum  sit  four  men  fenced  about  by  a  quad- 
ruple ring  of  unwieldy  volumes  which  are  an  in- 
dex to  all  the  knowledge  in  the  world.  The  four 
men  know  those  volumes  as  a  good  courier  knows  the 
Continental  Bradshaw,  and  all  day  long,  from  early 
morning,  when  the  attendants,  self-propelled  on 
wheeled  stools,  run  around  the  rings  arranging  and 
aligning  the  huge  blue  tomes,  to  late  afternoon,  when 
the  immense  dome  is  hke  a  dark  night  and  the  arc 
lamps  hiss  and  crackle  in  the  silence,  they  answer 
questions,  patiently,  courteously;  they  are  seldom  em- 
barrassed and  less  seldom  in  the  wrong. 

Radiating  in  long  rows  from  the  central  fortress 
of  learning,  a  diversified  company  of  readers  disposes 
itself:  bishops,  statesmen,  men  of  science,  historians, 
needy  pedants,  popular  authors  whose  broughams 
are  waiting  in  the  precincts,  journalists,  medical 
students,  law  students,  curates,  hack-writers,  women 
with  clipped  hair  and  black  aprons,  idlers;  all  short- 
sighted and  all  silent. 

Every  few  minutes  an  official  enters  in  charge  of 

68 


A  MAN  FROM  THE  NORTH  69 

an  awed  group  of  country  visitors,  and  whispers  me- 
chanically the  unchanging  formula  :  "  Eighty  thou- 
sand volumes  in  this  room  alone:  thirty-six  miles  of 
bookshelves  in  the  Museum  altogether."  Where- 
upon the  visitors  stare  about  them,  the  official  unsuc- 
cessfully endeavours  not  to  let  it  appear  that  the 
credit  of  the  business  belongs  entirely  to  himself,  and 
the  party  retires  again. 

Vague,  reverberating  noises  roll  heavily  from  time 
to  time  across  the  chamber,  but  no  one  looks  up ;  the 
incessant  cannibal  feast  of  the  living  upon  the  dead 
goes  speechlessly  forward;  the  trucks  of  food  are  al- 
ways moving  to  and  fro,  and  the  nonchalant  waiters 
seem  to  take  no  rest. 

Almost  Richard's  first  care  on  coming  to  London 
had  been  to  obtain  a  reader's  ticket  for  the  British 
Museum,  and  for  several  months  he  had  made  a 
practice  of  spending  Saturday  afternoon  there,  fol- 
lowing no  special  line  of  study  or  research,  and 
chiefly  contenting  himself  with  desultory  reading  in 
the  twenty  thousand  volumes  which  could  be  reached 
down  without  the  slow  machinery  of  an  order  form. 
After  a  time  the  charm  of  the  place  had  dwindled, 
and  other  occupations  filled  his  Saturday  afternoons. 

But  when  upon  his  return  from  William's  funeral 
he  stepped  from  Euston  Station  into  Bloomsbury, 
the  old  enthusiasms  came  back  in  all  their  original 


70  A  MAN  FROM  THE  NORTH 

freshness.  The  seduction  of  the  street  vistas,  the 
lofty  buildings,  and  the  swiftly  flitting  hansoms  once 
more  made  mere  wayfaring  a  delight;  the  old  feeling 
of  self-confident  power  lifted  his  chin,  and  the  fail- 
ures of  the  past  were  forgotten  in  a  dream  of  future 
possibilities.  He  dwelt  with  pleasure  on  that  part 
of  his  conversation  with  Mrs.  Clayton  Vernon  which 
disclosed  the  interesting  fact  that  Bursley  would  be 
hurt  if  he  failed  to  do  "  things."  Bursley,  and  es- 
pecially Mrs.  Clayton  Vernon,  good  woman,  should 
not  be  disappointed.  He  had  towards  his  native 
town  the  sentiments  of  a  consciously  clever  husband 
who  divines  an  admiring  trust  in  the  glance  of  a  little 
ignoramus  of  a  wife.  Such  faith  was  indeed  touch- 
ing. 

One  of  the  numerous  resolutions  which  he  made 
was  to  resume  attendance  at  the  British  Museum; 
the  first  visit  was  anticipated  with  impatience,  and 
when  he  found  himself  once  more  within  the  book- 
lined  walls  of  the  reading-room  he  was  annoyed  to 
discover  that  his  plans  for  study  were  not  matured 
sufiiciently  to  enable  him  to  realise  any  definite  part 
of  them,  however  small,  that  day.  An  idea  for  an 
article  on  "  White  Elephants  "  was  nebulous  in  his 
brain;  he  felt  sure  that  the  subject  might  be  treated 
in  a  fascinating  manner,  if  only  he  could  put  hands 
on  the  right  material.     An  hour  passed  in  searching 


A  MAN  FROM  THE  NORTH  71 

Poole's  Index  and  other  works  of  reference,  without 
result,  and  Richard  spent  the  remainder  of  the  after- 
noon in  evolving  from  old  magazines  schemes  for 
articles  which  would  present  fewer  difficulties  In 
working  out.  Nothing  of  value  was  accomplished, 
and  yet  he  experienced  neither  disappointment  nor  a 
sense  of  failure.  Contact  with  innumerable  books  of 
respectable  but  forbidding  appearance  had  cajoled 
him,  as  frequently  before,  into  the  delusion  that  he 
had  been  Industrious;  surely  It  was  impossible  that  a 
man  could  remain  long  in  that  atmosphere  of  schol- 
arly attainment  without  acquiring  knowledge  and  im- 
proving his  mind ! 

Presently  he  abandoned  the  concoction  of  attract- 
ive titles  for  his  articles,  and  began  to  look  through 
some  volumes  of  the  "  Blographle  Unlverselle." 
The  room  was  thinning  now.  He  glanced  at  the 
clock;  it  was  turned  six.  He  had  been  there  nearly 
four  hours !  With  a  sigh  of  satisfaction  he  replaced 
all  his  books  and  turned  to  go,  mentally  discussing 
whether  or  not  so  much  application  did  not  entitle 
him,  in  spite  of  certain  resolutions,  to  go  to  the  Otto- 
man that  evening. 

"  Hey!  "  a  voice  called  out  as  he  passed  the  glass 
screen  near  the  door;  it  sang  resonantly  among  the 
desks  and  ascended  Into  the  dome;  a  number  of 
readers  looked  up.      Richard  turned  round  sharply, 


72         A  MAN  FROM  THE  NORTH 

and  beheld  Mr.  Aked  moving  a  forefinger  on  the 
other  side  of  the  screen. 

"Been  here  long?"  the  older  man  asked,  when 
Richard  had  come  round  to  him.  "  I  Ve  been  here 
all  day  —  first  time  for  fifteen  years  at  least. 
Strange  we  did  n't  see  each  other.  They  Ve  got  a 
beastly  new  regulation  about  novels  less  than  five 
years  old  not  being  available.  I  particularly  wanted 
some  of  Gissing's  —  not  for  the  mere  fun  of  reading 
'em  of  course,  because  I  Ve  read  'em  before.  I 
wanted  them  for  a  special  purpose  —  I  may  tell  you 
about  it  some  day  —  and  I  could  n't  get  them,  at 
least  several  of  them.  What  a  tremendous  crowd 
there  is  here  nowadays !  " 

"  Well,  you  see,  it 's  Saturday  afternoon,"  Richard 
put  in,  "  and  Saturday  afternoon  's  the  only  time 
that  most  people  can  come,  unless  they  've  men  of 
independent  means  like  yourself.  You  seem  to  have 
got  a  few  novels  besides  Gissing's,  though."  About 
forty  volumes  were  stacked  upon  Mr.  Aked's  desk, 
many  of  them  open. 

"  Yes,  but  I  've  done  now."  He  began  to 
close  the  books  with  a  smack  and  to  pitch  them  down 
roughly  in  new  heaps,  exactly  like  a  petulant  boy 
handling  school-books.  "  See,  pile  them  between 
my  arms,  and  I  bet  you  I  '11  carry  them  away  all  at 
once." 


A  MAN  FROM  THE  NORTH  73 

"  Oh,  no.  I  '11  help  you,"  Richard  laughed. 
'*  It  '11  be  far  less  trouble  than  picking  up  what  you 
drop." 

While  they  were  waiting  at  the  centre  desk  Mr. 
Aked  said, — 

"  There  's  something  about  this  place  that  makes 
you  ask  for  more  volumes  than  can  possibly  be  use- 
ful to  you.  I  question  whether  I  've  done  any  good 
here  to-day  at  all.  If  I  'd  been  content  with  three 
or  four  books  instead  of  thirty  or  forty,  I  might  have 
done  something.  By  the  way,  what  are  you  here 
for?" 

"  Well,  I  just  came  to  look  up  a  few  points,"  Rich- 
ard answered  vaguely.  "  I  've  been  messing  about 
—  got  a  notion  or  two  for  articles,  that 's  all." 

Mr.  Aked  stopped  to  shake  hands  as  soon  as  they 
were  outside  the  Museum.  Richard  was  very  dis- 
appointed that  their  meeting  should  have  been  so 
short.  This  man  of  strange  vivacity  had  thrown  a 
spell  over  him.  Richard  was  sure  that  his  conver- 
sation, if  only  he  could  be  persuaded  to  talk,  would 
prove  delightfully  original  and  suggestive;  he 
guessed  that  they  were  mutually  sympathetic.  Ever 
since  their  encounter  in  the  A.  B.  C.  shop  Richard 
had  desired  to  know  more  of  him,  and  now,  when 
by  chance  they  met  again,  Mr.  Aked's  manner 
showed  little  or  no  inclination  towards  a  closer  ac- 


74         A  MAN  FROM  THE  NORTH 

quaintance.  There  was  of  course  a  difference  be- 
tween them  in  age  of  at  least  thirty  years,  but  to 
Richard  that  seemed  no  bar  to  an  intimacy.  It  was, 
he  surmised,  only  the  physical  part  of  Mr.  Aked  that 
had  grown  old. 

"  Well,  good-bye." 

"  Good-bye."  Should  he  ask  if  he  might  call  at 
Mr.  Aked's  rooms  or  house,  or  whatever  his  abode 
was?     He  hesitated,  from  nervousness. 

"  Often  come  here?  " 

"  Generally  on  Saturdays,"  said  Richard. 

"  We  may  see  each  other  again,  then,  sometime. 
Good-bye." 

Richard  left  him  rather  sadly,  and  the  sound  of  the 
old  man's  quick,  alert  footsteps  —  he  almost  stamped 
—  receded  in  the  direction  of  Southampton  Row. 
A  minute  later,  as  Richard  was  turning  round  by 
Mudle's  out  of  Museum  Street,  a  hand  touched  his 
shoulder.     It  was  Mr.  Aked's. 

"  By  the  way,"  the  man's  face  crinkled  into  a 
smile  as  he  spoke,  "  are  you  doing  anything  to- 
night?" 

"  Nothing  whatever." 

*'  Let 's  go  and  have  dinner  together  —  I  know  a 
good  French  place  In  Soho." 

"  Oh,  thanks.     I  shall  be  awfully  pleased." 

"  Half  a  crown,  table  d'hote.     Can  you  afford?  " 


A  MAN  FROM  THE  NORTH  75 

"  Certainly  I  can,"  said  Richard,  perhaps  a  little 
annoyed,  until  he  recollected  that  Mr.  Aked  had  used 
exactly  the  same  phrase  on  a  previous  occasion. 

"  I  '11  pay  for  the  wine." 

"  Not  at  all  — " 

"  I  '11  pay  for  the  wine,"  Mr.  Aked  repeated  de- 
cisively. 

"  All  right.  You  told  me  about  this  Soho  place 
before,  if  you  remember." 

"  So  I  did,  so  I  did,  so  I  did." 

*'  What  made  you  turn  back?  " 

"  A  whim,  young  friend,  nothing  else.  Take  my 
arm." 

Richard  laughed  aloud,  for  no  reason  in  particular, 
except  that  he  felt  happy.  They  settled  to  a  brisk 
walk. 

The  restaurant  was  a  square  apartment  with  a  low 
and  smoky  beamed  ceiling,  and  shining  brass  hat- 
pegs  all  round  the  walls;  above  the  hat-pegs  were 
framed  advertisements  of  liqueurs  and  French,  Ital- 
ian, and  Spanish  wines.  The  little  tables,  whose  stiff 
snowy  cloths  came  near  to  touching  the  floor  at  every 
side,  gleamed  and  glittered  in  the  light  of  a  fire. 
The  place  was  empty  save  for  an  old  waiter  who  was 
lighting  the  gas.  The  waiter  turned  a  large,  mild 
countenance  to  Mr.  Aked  as  the  two  entered,  and 


76         A  MAN  FROM  THE  NORTH 

smiling  benignly  greeted  him  with  a  flow  of  French, 
and  received  a  brief  reply  in  the  same  language. 
Richard  failed  to  comprehend  what  was  said. 

They  chose  a  table  near  the  fire.  Mr.  Aked  at 
once  pulled  a  book  from  his  pocket  and  began  to 
read;  and  Richard,  somewhat  accustomed  by  this 
time  to  his  peculiarities,  found  nothing  extraordinary 
In  such  conduct.  This  plain  little  restaurant  seemed 
full  of  enchantment.  He  was  In  Paris, —  not  the 
great  Paris  which  is  reached  via  Charing  Cross,  but 
that  little  Paris  which  hides  itself  In  the  Immensity 
of  London.  French  newspapers  were  scattered 
about  the  room ;  the  sound  of  French  voices  came  mu- 
sically through  an  open  door;  the  bread  which  was 
presently  brought  In  with  the  hors  d'ceuvre  was 
French,  and  the  setting  of  the  table  Itself  showed 
an  exotic  daintiness  which  he  had  never  seen  be- 
fore. 

Outside  a  barrel  organ  was  piercingly  strident  In 
the  misty  dusk.  Above  the  ground-glass  panes  of 
the  window,  Richard  could  faintly  descry  the  upper 
storeys  of  houses  on  the  opposite  side  of  the  road. 
There  was  a  black  and  yellow  sign,  "  Umberto 
Club,"  and  above  that  a  blue  and  red  sign,  "  Blan- 
chisserie  frangalse."  Still  higher  was  an  open  win- 
dow from  which  leaned  a  young,  negligently  dressed 
woman  with  a  coarse  Southern  face;  she  swung  a 


A  MAN  FROM  THE  NORTH  77 

bird-cage  idly  in  her  hand;  the  bird-cage  fell  and  was 
swallowed  by  the  ground  glass,  and  the  woman  with 
a  gesture  of  despair  disappeared  from  the  window; 
the  barrel  organ  momentarily  ceased  its  melody  and 
then  struck  up  anew. 

Everything  seemed  strangely,  delightfully  unsub- 
stantial, even  the  meek,  bland  face  of  the  waiter  as 
he  deftly  poured  out  the  soup.  Mr.  Aked,  having 
asked  for  the  wine  list,  called  "  Cinquante,  Georges, 
s'il  vous  plait,"  and  divided  his  attention  impartially 
between  his  soup  and  his  book.  Richard  picked  up 
the  "  Echo  de  Paris  "  which  lay  on  a  neighbouring 
chair.  On  the  first  page  was  a  reference  in  dis- 
played type  to  the  success  of  the  feuilleton  "  de  notre 
collahorateur  distingue,"  Catulle  Mendes.  How 
wondrously  enticing  the  feuilleton  looked,  with  its 
descriptive  paragraphs  cleverly  diversified  by  short 
lines  of  dialogue,  and  at  the  end  "  CATULLE 
MENDES,  a  siiivre.  Reproduction  interdite! " 
Half  Paris,  probably,  was  reading  that  feuilleton  I 
Catulle  Mendes  was  a  real  man,  and  no  doubt  eating 
his  dinner  at  that  moment ! 

When  the  fish  came,  and  Georges  had  gently 
poured  out  the  wine,  Mr.  Aked's  tongue  was  loosed. 

"  And  how  has  the  Muse  been  behaving  herself?  " 
he  began. 

Richard  told  him,  with  as  little  circumlocution  as 


78  A  MAN  FROM  THE  NORTH 

pride  would  allow,  the  history  of  the  last  few  sterile 
months. 

"  I  suppose  you  feel  a  bit  downhearted." 

"  Not  in  the  least !  "  answered  Richard,  bravely, 
and  just  then  his  reply  was  approximately  true. 

*'  Never  feel  downhearted?  " 

"  Well,  of  course  one  gets  a  bit  sick  sometimes." 

"  Let 's  see,  to-day  's  the  30th.  How  many  words 
have  you  written  this  month?  " 

*'  How  many  words !  "  Richard  laughed.  "  I 
never  count  what  I  do  in  that  way.  But  it 's  not 
much.  I  have  n't  felt  in  the  humour.  There  was 
the  funeral.     That  put  me  off." 

"  I  suppose  you  think  you  must  write  only  when 
the  mood  is  on  you/'  Mr.  Aked  spoke  sarcastically, 
and  then  laughed.  "  Quite  a  mistake.  I  '11  give  you 
this  bit  of  advice  and  charge  nothing  for  it.  Sit 
down  every  night  and  write  five  hundred  words  de- 
scriptive of  some  scene  which  has  occurred  during 
the  day.  Never  mind  how  tired  you  are ;  do  it.  Do 
it  for  six  months,  and  then  compare  the  earlier  work 
with  the  later,  and  you  '11  keep  on." 

Richard  drank  the  wisdom  in. 

"  Did  you  do  that  once?  " 

"  I  did,  sir.  Everyone  does  it  that  comes  to  any- 
thing. I  did  n't  come  to  anything,  though  I  made  a 
bit  of  money  at  one  time.     But  then  mine  was  a  queer 


A  MAN  FROM  THE  NORTH         79 

case.  I  was  knocked  over  by  dyspepsia.  Beware 
of  dyspepsia.  I  was  violently  dyspeptic  for  twenty 
years  —  simply  could  n't  write.  Then  I  cured  my- 
self. But  it  was  too  late  to  begin  again."  He 
spoke  in  gulps  between  mouthfuls  of  fish. 

"  How  did  you  cure  yourself?  " 

The  man  took  no  notice  of  the  question,  and  went 
on:  — 

"And  if  I  haven't  written  anything  for  twenty 
years,  I  'm  still  an  author  at  heart.  In  fact,  I  've  got 
something  '  In  the  air  '  now.  Oh !  I  've  always  had 
the  literary  temperament  badly.  Do  you  ever  catch 
yourself  watching  instinctively  for  the  characteristic 
phrase?  " 

"  I  'm  afraid  I  don't  quite  know  what  you  mean." 

"Eh?" 

Richard  repeated  what  he  had  said,  but  Mr.  Aked 
was  absorbed  in  pouring  out  another  glass  of  wine. 

"  I  wish  you  'd  tell  me,"  Richard  began,  after  a 
pause,  "  how  you  first  began  to  write,  or  rather  to 
get  printed." 

"  My  dear  little  friend,  I  can't  tell  you  anything 
new.  I  wrote  for  several  years  and  never  sold  a 
line.  And  for  what  peculiar  reason,  should  you 
think?  Simply  because  not  a  line  was  worth  print- 
ing. Then  my  things  began  to  be  accepted.  I  sold 
a  story  first;  I  forget  tlie  title,  but  I  remember  there 


8o         A  MAN  FROM  THE  NORTH 

was  a  railway  accident  In  It,  and  It  happened  to  come 
before  the  editor  of  a  magazine  just  when  every- 
one was  greatly  excited  about  a  railway  smash  in 
the  West  of  England.  I  got  thirty  shillings  for 
that." 

"  I  think  I  should  get  on  all  right  enough  If  only 
I  could  sell  one  thing."     Richard  sighed. 

"  Well,  you  must  wait.  Why,  damn  It  all,  man !  " 
—  he  stopped  to  drink,  and  Richard  noticed  how  his 
hand  shook.  "  How  long  have  you  been  working 
seriously?  Not  a  year  I  If  you  were  going  in  for 
painting,  you  surely  would  n't  expect  to  sell  pictures 
after  only  a  year's  study?"  Mr.  Aked  showed  a 
naive  appreciation  of  himself  In  the  part  of  a  veteran 
who  deigns  to  give  a  raw  recruit  the  benefit  of  vast 
experience. 

"  Of  course  not,"  assented  Richard,  abashed. 

"  Well,  then,  don't  begin  to  whine." 

After  the  cheese  Mr.  Aked  ordered  coffee  and 
cognac,  and  sixpenny  cigars.  They  smoked  In 
silence. 

"  Do  you  know,"  Richard  blurted  out  at  length, 
"  the  fact  Is  I  'm  not  sure  that  I  'm  meant  for  writing 
at  all.  I  never  take  any  pleasure  in  writing.  It 's 
a  confounded  nuisance."  He  almost  trembled  with 
apprehension  as  he  uttered  the  words. 


A  MAN  FROM  THE  NORTH         8i 

"  You  like  thinking  about  what  you  're  going  to 
write,  arranging,  observing,  etc.?" 

"  Yes,  I  like  that  awfully." 

"  Well,  here  's  a  secret.  No  writer  does  like  writ- 
ing, at  least  not  one  in  a  hundred,  and  the  exception, 
ten  to  one,  is  a  howling  mediocrity.  That 's  a  fact. 
But  all  the  same  they  're  miserable  if  they  don't 
write." 

*'  I  'm  glad;  there  's  hope." 

When  Richard  had  finished  his  coffee,  it  occurred 
to  him  to  mention  Miss  Roberts. 

"  Do  you  ever  go  to  the  Crabtree?  "  he  asked. 

"  Not  of  late." 

"  I  only  ask  because  there  's  a  girl  there  who  knows 
you.  She  inquired  of  me  how  you  were  not  long 
since." 

"  A  girl  who  knows  me?  Who  the  devil  may  she 
be?" 

*'  I  fancy  her  name  's  Roberts." 

"  Aha  I  So  she  's  got  a  new  place,  has  she?  She 
lives  in  my  street.  That 's  how  I  know  her.  Nice 
little  thing,  rather  I  " 

He  made  no  further  remark  on  the  subject,  but 
there  remained  an  absent,  amused  smile  on  his  face, 
and  he  pulled  at  his  lower  lip  and  fastened  his  gaze 
on  the  table. 


82         A  MAN  FROM  THE  NORTH 

"  You  must  come  down  sometime,  and  see  me ; 
my  niece  keeps  house  for  me,"  he  said  before  they 
separated,  giving  an  address  in  Fulham.  He  wrung 
Richard's  hand,  patted  him  on  the  shoulder,  winking 
boyishly,  and  went  off  whistling  to  himself  very 
quietly  in  the  upper  register. 


CHAPTER  X 

THE  slender,  badly  hung  gate  closed  of  itself 
behind  him  with  a  resounding  clang,  com- 
municating a  little  thrill  to  the  ground. 

In  answer  to  his  ring  a  girl  came  to  the  door. 
She  was  rather  short,  thin,  and  dressed  In  black,  with 
a  clean  white  apron.  In  the  half  light  of  the  narrow 
lobby  he  made  out  a  mahogany  hat-rack  of  conven- 
tional shape,  and  on  a  wooden  bracket  a  small  lamp 
with  a  tarnished  reflector. 

"  No,"  Richard  heard  in  a  quiet,  tranquill  voice, 
"  Mr.  Aked  has  just  gone  out  for  a  walk.  He 
did  n't  say  what  time  he  should  be  back.  Can  I  give 
him  any  message  ?  " 

"  He  sent  me  a  card  to  come  down  and  see  him 
this  afternoon,  and  —  I  've  come.  He  said  about 
seven  o'clock.  It 's  a  quarter  past  now.  But  per- 
haps he  forgot  all  about  it." 

"  Will  you  step  inside  ?  He  may  only  be  away  for 
a  minute  or  two." 

"  No,  thanks.  If  you  '11  just  tell  him  I  've 
called  — " 

"  I  'm  so  sorry  — "     The  girl  raised  her  hand  and 

83 


84         A  MAN  FROM  THE  NORTH 

rested  it  against  the  jamb  of  the  doorway;  her  eyes 
were  set  slantwise  on  the  strip  of  garden,  and  she 
seemed  to  muse  an  Instant. 

"Are  you  Mr.  Larch?"  she  asked  hesitatingly, 
just  as  Richard  was  saying  good-day. 

"  Yes,"  answered  Richard. 

"  Uncle  was  telling  me  he  had  had  dinner  with 
you.  I  'm  sure  he  '11  be  back  soon.  Won't  you  wait 
a  httle  while?" 

"  Well  — " 

She  stood  aside,  and  Richard  passed  Into  the  lobby. 

The  front  room.  Into  which  he  was  ushered,  was 
full  of  dim  shadows,  attributable  to  the  multiplicity 
of  curtains  which  obscured  the  small  bay  window. 
Carteret  Street  and  the  half-dozen  florid,  tawny,  tree- 
lined  avenues  that  run  parallel  to  It  contain  hundreds 
of  living  rooms  almost  precisely  similar.  Its  dimen- 
sions were  thirteen  feet  by  eleven,  and  the  height  of 
the  celling  appeared  to  bring  the  walls,  which  were 
papered  in  an  undecipherable  pattern  of  blue,  even 
closer  together  than  they  really  were.  Linoleum 
with  a  few  rugs  served  for  a  carpet.  The  fireplace 
was  of  painted  stone,  and  a  fancy  screen  of  South 
African  grasses  hid  the  grate.  Behind  a  clock  and 
some  vases  on  the  mantelpiece  rose  a  confection  of 
walnut  and  silvered  glass.     A  mahogany  chiffonier 


.A. 


A  MAN  FROM  THE  NORTH  85 

filled  the  side  of  the  room  farthest  from  the  window; 
it  had  a  marble  top  and  a  large  mirror  framed  in 
scroll  work,  and  was  littered  with  salt-cellars,  fruit 
plates,  and  silver  nicknacks.  The  table,  a  square 
one,  was  covered  by  a  red  cloth  of  flannel-like  texture 
patterned  in  black.  The  chairs  were  of  mahogany 
and  horsehair,  and  matched  the  sofa,  which  stretched 
from  the  door  nearly  to  the  window.  Several  prints 
framed  in  gilt  and  oak  depended  by  means  of  stout 
green  cord  from  French  nails  with  great  earthern- 
ware  heads.  In  the  recess  to  the  left  of  the  hearth 
stood  a  piano,  open,  and  a  song  on  the  music-stand. 
What  distinguished  the  room  from  others  of  its  type 
was  a  dwarf  bookcase  filled  chiefly  with  French 
novels  whose  vivid  yellow  gratefully  lightened  a  dark 
corner  next  the  door. 

"  Uncle  is  very  forgetful,"  the  girl  began.  There 
was  some  sewing  on  the  table,  and  she  had  already 
taken  it  up.  Richard  felt  shy  and  ill  at  ease,  but 
his  companion  showed  no  symptom  of  discomposure. 
He  smiled  vaguely,  not  knowing  what  to  reply. 

"  I  suppose  he  walks  a  good  deal,"  he  said  at 
length. 

"  Yes,  he  does."  There  was  a  second  pause. 
The  girl  continued  to  sew  quietly;  she  appeared  to 
be  indifferent  whether  they  conversed  or  not. 


86  A  MAN  FROM  THE  NORTH 

"  I  see  you  are  a  musician." 

"  Oh,  no  1  "  She  laughed,  and  looked  at  his 
eyes.     "  I  sing  a  very  little  bit." 

"  Do  you  sing  Schubert's  songs?  " 

"  Schubert's?     No.     Are  they  good?  " 

"  Rather.     They  're  the  songs." 

"  Classical,  I  suppose."  Her  tone  Implied  that 
classical  songs  were  outside  the  region  of  the 
practical. 

"  Yes,  of  course." 

"  I  don't  think  I  care  much  for  classical  music." 

"  But  you  should." 

"Should  I?  Why?"  She  laughed  gaily,  like 
a  child  amused.  "  Hope  Temple's  songs  are  nice, 
and  '  The  River  of  Years,'  I'm  just  learning  that. 
Do  you  sing?  " 

"  No  —  I  don't  really  sing.  I  have  n't  got  a 
piano  at  my  place  —  now." 

"  What  a  pity!  I  suppose  you  know  a  great  deal 
about  music?  " 

"  I  wish  I  did !  "  said  Richard,  trying  awkwardly 
not  to  seem  flattered. 

A  third  pause. 

"  Mr.  Aked  seems  to  have  a  fine  lot  of  French 
novels.     I  wish  I  had  as  many." 

"  Yes.     He  's  always  bringing  them  In." 

"And  this  is  the  latest,   eh?"     He  picked  up 


A  MAN  FROM  THE  NORTH  87 

"  L'Abbe  Tigrane,"  which  lay  on  the  table  by  the 
sewing. 

"  Yes,  I  fancy  uncle  got  that  last  night." 

"  You  read  French,  of  course?  " 

"  1 1  No,  indeed !  "  Again  she  laughed.  "  You 
must  n't  imagine,  Mr.  Larch,"  she  went  on,  and  her 
small  eyes  twinkled,  "  that  I  am  at  all  like  uncle. 
I  'm  not.  I  Ve  only  kept  house  for  him  a  little  while, 
and  we  are  really  —  quite  different." 

"  How  do  you  mean,  '  like  uncle  '  ?  " 

"  Well,"  the  quiet  voice  was  imperceptibly  raised, 
"  I  'm  not  a  great  reader,  and  I  know  nothing  of 
books.  I  'm  not  clever,  you  know.  I  can't  bear 
poetry." 

Richard  looked  indulgent. 

"  But  you  do  read?" 

"  Yes,  sometimes  a  novel.  I  'm  reading  *  East 
Lynne.'  Uncle  bought  it  for  me  the  other 
day." 

"And  you  like  it?" 

There  was  a  timid  tap  at  the  door,  and  a  short, 
stout  servant  with  red  hands  and  a  red  face  entered; 
her  rough,  chubby  forearms  were  bare,  and  she  car- 
ried a  market  basket.  "  Please,  'm,"  she  ejaculated 
meaningly  and  disappeared.  Mr.  Aked's  niece  ex- 
cused herself,  and  when  she  returned  Richard  looked 
at  his  watch  and  rose. 


88         A  MAN  FROM  THE  NORTH 

"  I  'm  very  sorry  about  uncle  —  but  it 's  just  like 
him." 

"Yes,  isn't  it?"  Richard  answered,  and  they  ex- 
changed a  smile. 

He  walked  down  Carteret  Street  humming  a  tune- 
less air  and  twirling  his  stick.  Mr.  Aked's  niece  had 
proved  rather  disappointing.  She  was  an  ordinary 
girl,  and  evidently  quite  unsusceptible  to  the  artistic 
influences  which  subtly  emanated  from  Mr.  Aked. 
But  with  the  exception  of  his  landlady  and  his  land- 
lady's daughter,  she  was  the  first  woman  whom 
Richard  had  met  in  London,  and  the  interview  had 
been  somewhat  of  an  ordeal. 

Yes,  it  was  matter  for  regret.  Suppose  she  had 
been  clever,  witty,  full  of  that  *'  nameless  charm  " 
with  which  youths  invest  the  ideal  maidens  of  their 
dreams  —  with  which,  indeed,  during  the  past  week 
he  had  invested  her  I  He  might  have  married  her. 
Then,  guided  by  the  experience  of  a  sympathetic 
uncle-in-law,  he  would  have  realised  all  his  ambi- 
tions. A  vision  of  Mr.  Richard  Larch,  the  well- 
known  editor,  and  his  charming  wife,  giving  a  din- 
ner-party to  a  carefully  selected  company  of  literary 
celebrities,  flitted  before  him.  Alas  I  The  girl's 
"  East  Lynne,"  her  drawing-room  ballads,  the  mean 
little  serving-maid,  the  complacent  vulgarity  of  the 


A  MAN  FROM  THE  NORTH  89 

room,  the  house,  the  street,  the  neighbourhood,  com- 
bined effectually  to  dispel  it. 

He  felt  sure  that  she  had  no  aspirations. 

It  was  necessary  to  wait  for  a  train  at  Parson's 
Green  station.  From  the  elevated  platform  grass 
was  visible  through  a  gently  falling  mist.  The  curv- 
ing rails  stole  away  mysteriously  into  a  general  grey- 
ness,  and  the  twilight,  assuaging  every  crudity  of  the 
surburban  landscape,  gave  an  Impression  of  vast 
spaces  and  perfect  serenity.  Save  for  the  porter 
leisurely  lighting  the  station  lamps,  he  was  alone, — 
alone,  as  it  seemed  to  him.  In  an  upper  world,  above 
London,  and  especially  above  Fulham  and  the  house 
where  lived  the  girl  who  read  "  East  Lynne."  How 
commonplace  must  she  be !  Richard  wondered  that 
Mr.  Aked  could  exist  surrounded  by  all  the  banalities 
of  Carteret  Street.  Even  his  own  lodging  was  more 
attractive,  for  at  least  Raphael  Street  was  within 
sound  of  the  central  hum  and  beat  of  the  city. 

A  signal  suddenly  shone  out  In  the  distance;  it 
might  have  been  a  lighthouse  seen  across  unnumbered 
miles  of  calm  ocean.     Rain  began  to  fall. 


CHAPTER  XI 

RICHARD'S  Sabbaths  had  become  days  of 
dismal  torpor.  A  year  ago,  on  first  arriv- 
ing in  London,  he  had  projected  a  series  of 
visits  to  churches  famous  either  for  architectural 
beauty  or  for  picturesque  ritual.  A  few  weeks,  how- 
ever, had  brought  tedium.  He  was  fundamentally 
irreligious,  and  his  churchgoing  proceeded  from  a 
craving,  purely  sensuous,  which  sought  gratification 
in  ceremonial  pomps,  twilight  atmospheres  heavy 
with  incense  and  electric  with  devotion,  and  dim  per- 
spectives of  arching  stone.  But  these  things  he  soon 
discovered  lost  their  fine  savour  by  the  mere  presence 
of  a  prim  congregation  secure  in  the  brass  armour  of 
self-complacency;  for  him  the  worship  was  spoilt  by 
the  worshippers,  and  so  the  time  came  when  the  only 
church  which  he  cared  to  attend  —  and  even  to  this 
he  went  but  infrequently,  lest  use  should  stale  its 
charm  —  was  the  Roman  Catholic  oratory  of  St. 
Philip  Neri,  where,  at  mass,  the  separation  of  the 
sexes  struck  a  grateful  note  of  austerity,  and  the  mean 
appearance  of  the  people  contrasted  admirably  with 
the  splendour  of  the  priests'  vestments,  the  elaborate 

go 


A  MAN  FROM  THE  NORTH  91 

music,  and  the  gilt  and  colour  of  altars.  Here  deity 
was  omnipotent  and  humanity  abject.  Men  and 
women  of  all  grades,  casting  themselves  down  before 
the  holy  images  in  the  ecstatic  abandonment  of  re- 
pentance, prayed  side  by  side,  oblivious  of  everything 
save  their  sins  and  the  anger  of  a  God.  As  a 
spectacle  the  oratory  was  sublime. 

He  visited  it  about  once  a  month.  The  mornings 
of  intervening  Sundays  were  given  to  aimless  peram- 
bulation of  the  parks,  desultory  reading,  or  sleep; 
there  was  nothing  to  prevent  him  leaving  town  for 
the  day,  but  he  was  so  innocent  of  any  sort  of  rural 
lore  that  the  prospect  of  a  few  hours  in  the  country 
was  seldom  enticing  enough  to  rouse  sufficient  energy 
for  its  accomplishment.  After  dinner  he  usually 
slept,  and  in  the  evening  he  would  take  a  short  walk 
and  go  early  to  bed.  For  some  reason  he  never  at- 
tempted to  work  on  Sundays. 

It  had  rained  continuously  since  he  left  Parson's 
Green  station  on  the  previous  night,  till  midday  on 
Sunday,  and  in  the  afternoon  he  was  lounging  half 
asleep  with  a  volume  of  verse  on  his  knee,  consider- 
ing whether  or  not  to  put  on  his  hat  and  go  out,  when 
Lily  entered;  Lily  was  attired  for  conquest,  and  with 
her  broad  velvet  hat  and  pink  bows  looked  so  unlike 
a  servant-girl  that  drowsy  Richard  started  up,  un- 
certain what  fairy  was  brightening  his  room. 


92  A  MAN  FROM  THE  NORTH 

"  Please,  sir,  there  's  a  young  gentleman  as  wants 
to  see  you." 

"Oh!  —  who  is  it?"  No  one  had  ever  called 
upon  him  before. 

"I  don't  know,  sir;  it's  a  young  gentleman'' 

The  young  gentleman  was  ushered  in.  He  wore 
a  new  black  frock  coat,  and  light  grey  trousers  which 
fell  in  rich  folds  over  new  patent-leather  boots. 
The  shortcomings  of  his  linen,  which  was  dull  and 
bluish  in  tint,  were  more  than  atoned  for  by  the 
magnificence  of  a  new  white  silk  necktie  with  helio- 
trope spots.  He  carried  a  silk  hat  and  a  pair  of 
unworn  kid  gloves  in  one  hand,  and  in  the  other  a 
half-smoked  cigar  and  a  stick,  with  whose  physiog- 
nomy Richard  was  quite  familiar. 

"Hello,  Jenkins!" 

"  Good  afternoon,  Mr.  Larch.  I  was  just  pass- 
ing this  way,  and  I  thought  I  'd  look  you  up."  With 
an  inclination  of  the  head  more  ridiculous  even  than 
he  intended,  Jenkins  placed  his  hat,  stick,  and  gloves 
on  the  bed,  and,  nicely  adjusting  the  tails  of  his  coat, 
occupied  a  chair. 

The  quarrel  between  Richard  and  Jenkins  had 
been  patched  up  a  few  days  before. 

So  this  is  your  digs.     Nice  large  windows !  " 
Yes,  decent  windows." 

Although  these  two  were  on  terms  of  almost  brutal 


(I 


A  MAN  FROM  THE  NORTH         93 

familiarity  during  office  hours,  here  each  felt  slightly 
uncomfortable  in  the  other's  presence.  Jenkins 
wiped  his  pallid,  unhealthy  face  with  a  cambric  hand- 
kerchief which  he  unfolded  for  the  purpose. 

"  Been  to  church  this  morning?" 

Meditatively  Jenkins  flicked  some  cigar-ash  into 
the  fire-grate,  and  then  answered,  "  Yes." 

"  I  thought  so." 

"Why?" 

*'  Because  you  're  such  a  swell." 

"Ain't  I,  just  I"  Jenkins  spoke  with  frank  de- 
light. "Two  guineas  the  suit,  my  boy!  Won't  I 
knock  'em  in  the  Wal — worth  Road!  " 

"  But  where  's  your  ring?  "  Richard  asked,  notic- 
ing the  absence  of  the  silver  ring  which  Jenkins  com- 
monly wore  on  his  left  hand. 

"  Oh !  I  gave  it  to  my  sister.  She  wanted  to  give 
it  to  her  young  man." 

"  She  's  engaged,  is  she?  " 

"  Yes  — -  at  least  I  suppose  she  Is." 

"  And  when  are  you  going  to  get  engaged?  " 

Jenkins  emitted  a  sound  expressive  of  scorn. 
"  You  don't  catch  me  entering  the  holy  bonds.  Not 
this  child!  It  ain't  all  lavender,  you  bet.  I  say, 
you  know  Miss  Roberts  at  the  veg  —  red-haired 
tart."  Jenkins  was  unaware  that  Richard  had  been 
going  regularly  to  the   Crabtree.      "  I  was  passing 


94  A  MAN  FROM  THE  NORTH 

the  place  last  night  just  as  they  were  closing,  and  I 
walked  down  to  Charing  Cross  with  her.  I  asked 
her  to  meet  me  to-day  somewhere,  but  she  could  n't." 

"  You  mean  she  would  n't.  Well,  and  what  sort 's 
she?" 

"  Devilish  nice,  /  tell  you.  But  not  my  style. 
But  there  's  a  girl  I  know  —  lives  down  the  Camber- 
well  New  Road.  She  is  a  treat  now, —  a  fair  treat. 
About  seventeen,  and  plump  as  a  pigeon.  I  shall 
see  her  to-night." 

"  Oh,  indeed !  "  said  Richard,  for  the  hundredth 
time  marvelling  that  he  should  be  on  a  footing  of 
intimacy  with  Albert  Jenkins.  The  girl  at  Carteret 
Street,  whatever  her  imperfections,  did  not  use  the 
Cockney  dialect.  And  her  smile  was  certainly  al- 
luring. Moreover,  she  had  dignity.  True,  she 
liked  "  East  Lynne  "  and  Hope  Temple's  songs,  but 
it  occurred  to  Richard  that  it  might  be  pleasanter  to 
listen  even  to  these  despised  melodies  than  to  remain 
solitary  at  Raphael  Street  or  to  accompany  Jenkins 
on  a  prowl.  Why  should  he  not  go  down  that 
afternoon  to  see  Mr.  Aked  —  and  his  niece?  He 
immediately  decided  that  he  would  do  so. 

"  It 's  turned  out  fine,"  said  Jenkins.  "  What  are 
you  up  to  to-night?  Will  you  come  and  have  a  turn 
round  with  me?  " 

"  Let  me   see     .     .     .     The   fact  is,   I   can't." 


A  MAN  FROM  THE  NORTH  95 

He  fought  desperately  against  the  temptation  to  men- 
tion that  he  proposed  to  call  on  a  lady,  but  in  vain. 
Forth  it  must  come.     "  I  'm  going  to  see  a  girl." 

"  Aha !  "  exclaimed  Jenkins,  with  a  terribly  arch 
look.  "  So  that 's  the  Httle  game,  eh !  Who  's  the 
mash?" 

Richard  smiled  reticently. 

"  Well,  I  '11  be  off."  Jenkins  rose,  and  his  eye 
caught  Richard's  little  bookcase;  he  scanned  the 
titles  of  the  volumes. 

"  Oh  I  Likewise  ah  !  Zola  !  Now  we  're  get- 
ting at  the  secret.  No  wonder  you  're  so  damn 
studious.  Zola,  indeed!  Well,  so  long.  See  you 
to-morrow.  Give  my  love  to  the  girl.  ...  I 
say,  I  suppose  you  have  n't  got  Zola  In  English,  have 
you?" 

"  No." 

"  Never  mind.     So  long.'^ 


CHAPTER  XII 

THE  little  red-armed  servant  beamed  an  ami- 
able recognition. 
"  Very  hot  day  !  "  Richard  said. 

"  Beg  pardon,  sir." 

"  Very  hot  day,"  rather  iouder.  They  were  in 
the  passage. 

The  door  of  the  sitting-room  opened,  and  Mr. 
Aked's  niece  stood  before  him,  her  finger  on  her  lips 
and  her  eyebrows  raised  in  a  gesture  of  warning. 
She  suddenly  smiled,  almost  laughed.  Richard  re- 
membered that  smile  for  a  long  time  afterwards.  It 
transformed  not  only  a  girl's  face,  but  the  whole  of 
Carteret  Street.  He  had  never  seen  anything  like 
it.  Shaking  hands  in  silence,  he  followed  her  into  the 
room,  and  she  gently  closed  the  door. 

"  Uncle  's  not  well,"  she  explained.  "  He  's  asleep 
now,  and  I  don't  want  you  to  wake  him.  In  this 
house,  you  know,  if  any  one  speaks  in  the  passage, 
you  can  hear  it  even  in  the  attic.  Uncle  was  caught 
in  the  rain  last  night;  he  has  a  very  weak  chest,  and 
gets  bronchitis  directly." 

"  I  'm  awfully  sorry  I  disturbed  you,"  said  Richard. 

96 


A  MAN  FROM  THE  NORTH  97 

"  The  fact  is  I  was  down  this  way,  and  I  thought 
I  'd  call."  It  sounded  a  sufficiently  reasonable  ex- 
cuse, he  considered.  "  I  hope  you  were  n't  asleep 
too." 

"  Yes,  I  was  dozing  in  this  chair."  She  put  her 
head  back,  and  drummed  with  her  fingers  lightly  on 
the  arms  of  the  chair.  "  But  I  'm  glad  you  've 
called." 

"Why?" 

"  Oh  I  Because  one  wants  to  see  some  one  — 
some  one  new,  especially  after  being  in  a  sick-room." 

"  You  Ve  been  sitting  up  late."  His  tone  was  ac- 
cusing. It  seemed  to  him  that  somehow  they  were 
already  Intimate. 

"  Only  till  three  o'clock,  and  I  slept  later  this  morn- 
ing. How  changeable  the  sun  Is  to-day!"  She 
moved  her  chair,  and  he  saw  her  in  profile.  Her 
hands  were  on  her  lap.  She  coaxed  a  foot  stool  into 
position  with  her  toes,  and  placed  her  feet  on  it. 

"  You  look  just  like  a  picture  in  this  week's  '  Il- 
lustrated London  News  ' —  I  mean  in  general  pose," 
he  exclaimed. 

"Do  I?     How  nice  that  sounds!     What  is  It?" 

"  Whistler's  '  Portrait  of  his  Mother.'  But  I 
hope  you  don't  think  I  think  you  look  old." 

"How  old  do  I  look?"  She  turned  her  head 
slightly  towards  him. 


98  A  MAN  FROM  THE  NORTH 

"  About  twenty-three,  only  I  imagine  you  're  much 
younger." 

Although  she  did  not  reply,  she  made  no  pretence 
of  being  annoyed,  nor  did  Richard  tax  himself  with 
a  gaudier ie. 

"  It  took  me  years  to  like  Whistler'^s  pictures," 
she  said;  and  in  response  to  Richard's  surprised  ques- 
tion she  was  beginning  to  explain  that  a  large  part 
of  her  life  had  been  passed  in  the  companionship 
of  works  of  graphic  art,  when  a  slippered  step  was 
heard  in  the  hall  and  some  one  fumbled  with  the 
door-handle.      Mr.  Aked  entered. 

"Uncle!  You  wicked  old  man!"  She  sprang 
up,  flushed,  and  her  eyes  sparkled  angrily.  "  What- 
ever did  you  get  up  for?     It 's  enough  to  kill  you." 

"  Calm  yourself,  my  child.  I  got  up  because  I 
did  n't  want  to  stay  in  bed, —  exactly  that."  Mr. 
Aked  paused  to  take  breath  and  sank  into  a  chair. 
"  Larch,  I  heard  your  voice  in  the  passage.  Upon 
my  word,  I  quite  forgot  you  yesterday.  I  suppose 
Adeline's  been  telling  you  I  'm  seriously  ill,  eh  ?  Ah ! 
I  've  had  many  a  worse  attack  than  this.  Put  that 
antimacassar  over  my  shoulders,  child." 

He  had  given  Richard  a  hot,  hmp  hand,  on  which 
the  veins  formed  soft  ridges  in  the  smooth,  brittle 
skin.  His  grey  hair  was  disarranged,  and  he  wore  a 
dirty,    torn   dressing-gown.     His    face   had   lost   its 


A  MAN  FROM  THE  NORTH  99 

customary  alert  expression ;  but  his  sunk,  shining  eyes 
glanced  with  mysterious  restlessness  first  at  Richard, 
then  at  Adeline,  who,  uttering  no  further  word, 
covered  him  well  and  put  the  hassock  under  his  feet. 

"  Well,  well,  well!  "  he  sighed  and  closed  his  eyes 
wearily.  The  other  two  sat  silent  for  a  time ;  then 
Adeline,  talking  very  quietly,  and  with  a  composure 
not  quite  unaffected,  took  up  their  Interrupted  con- 
versation. Richard  gathered  that  her  justifiable  vex- 
ation would  remain  In  abeyance  till  he  had  gone. 
Soon  her  tone  grew  more  natural;  she  leaned  for- 
ward with  hands  clasped  round  one  knee,  and  Richard 
felt  like  a  receiver  of  confidences  as  she  roughly  out- 
lined her  life  In  the  country  which  had  come  to  an 
end  only  two  years  ago.  Were  all  the  girls  so  simply 
communicative,  he  wondered;  It  pleased  him  to  de- 
cide that  they  were  not,  and  that  to  any  other  but 
himself  she  would  have  been  more  reserved;  that 
there  was.  In  fact,  an  affinity  between  them.  But  the 
presence  of  her  uncle,  which  Adeline  seemed  able 
to  ignore  utterly,  hindered  Richard  from  being  him- 
self. 

"  How  do  you  like  London,  after  living  so  long  in 
the  country?  "  he  asked  inevitably. 

*'  I  know  practically  nothing  of  London,  real 
London,"  she  said;  "but  I  think  these  suburbs  are 
horrid, —  far  duller  than  the  dullest  village.     And 


100       A  MAN  FROM  THE  NORTH 

the  people !     They  seem  so  uninteresting,  to  have  no 
character  I  " 

The  hoarse,  fatigued  voice  of  Mr.  Aked  crept 
In  between  them.  "  Child !  "  he  said  —  and  he  used 
the  appellation,  not  with  the  proper  dignity  of  age, 
but  rather  Hke  an  omniscient  schoolboy,  home  for 
the  holiday,  addressing  a  sister — "Child!" — his 
eyes  were  still  closed, — "  the  suburbs,  even  Walham 
Green  and  Fulham,  are  full  of  interest,  for  those  who 
can  see  It.  Walk  along  this  very  street  on  such  a 
Sunday  afternoon  as  to-day.  The  roofs  form  two 
horrible,  converging  straight  lines  I  know,  but  be- 
neath there  Is  character,  individuality,  enough  to 
make  the  greatest  book  ever  written.  Note  the 
varying  Indications  supplied  by  bad  furniture  seen 
through  curtained  windows,  like  ours"  (he  grinned, 
opened  his  eyes,  and  sat  up)  ;  "  listen  to  the  melodies 
Issuing  lamely  from  ill-tuned  pianos;  examine  the 
enervated  figures  of  women  reclining  amidst  flower- 
pots on  narrow  balconies.  Even  In  the  thin  smoke 
ascending  unwillingly  from  Invisible  chimney-pots, 
the  flutter  of  a  blind,  the  bang  of  a  door,  the  winking 
of  a  fox  terrier  perched  on  a  window-slll,  the  colour 
of  paint,  the  lettering  of  a  name, —  in  all  these  things 
there  Is  character  and  matter  of  Interest, —  truth 
waiting  to  be  expounded.  How  many  houses  are 
there     In     Carteret    Street?     Say    eighty.     Eighty 


A  MAN  FROM  THE  NORTH        loi 

theatres  of  love,  hate,  greed,  tyranny,  endeavour; 
eighty  separate  dramas  always  unfolding,  intertwin- 
ing, ending,  beginning, —  and  every  drama  a  tragedy. 
No  comedies,  and  especially  no  farces !  Why,  child, 
there  is  more  character  within  a  hundred  yards  of 
this  chair  than  a  hundred  Balzacs  could  analyse  in  a 
hundred  years." 

All  the  old  vivacity  had  returned  to  his  face;  he 
had  been  rhetorical  on  a  favourite  subject,  and  he 
was  frankly  pleased  with  himself. 

"  You  will  tire  yourself,  uncle,"  said  Adeline. 
"  Shall  we  have  tea?  " 

Richard  observed  with  astonishment  that  she  was 
cold  and  unmoved.  Surely  she  could  not  be  blind  to 
the  fact  that  Mr.  Aked  was  a  very  remarkable  man 
with  very  remarkable  ideas!  Why,  by  the  way, 
had  those  ideas  never  presented  themselves  to  him? 
He  would  write  an  article  on  the  character  of 
Raphael  Street.  Unwillingly  he  announced  that  he 
must  go;  to  remain  longer  would  be  to  Invite  him- 
self to  tea. 

"  Sit  still.  Larch.     You  '11  have  a  cup  of  tea." 

Adeline  left  the  room;  and  when  she  had  gone, 
Mr.  Aked,  throwing  a  glance  after  her,  said, — 

"  Well,  what  do  you  think  of  my  notions  of  the 
suburb?  " 

"  They  are  splendid,"  Richard  replied,  glowing. 


102       A  MAN  FROM  THE  NORTH 

"  There 's  something  in  them,  I  imagine,"  he 
agreed  complacently.  "  I  Ve  had  an  idea  lately  of 
beginning  to  scribble  again.  I  know  there  's  a  book 
waiting  to  be  written  on  '  The  Psychology  of  the  Sub- 
urbs,' and  I  don't  like  to  see  copy  lying  about 
wasted.  The  old  war-horse  scenting  the  battle,  you 
understand."  He  smiled  grandiosely.  "  '  Psy- 
chology of  the  Suburbs  ' !  Fine  title  that  I  See  how 
the  silent  P  takes  away  all  the  crudity  of  the  allitera- 
tion; that's  because  one  never  listens  to  words  with 
the  ears  alone,  but  with  the  eyes  also.  .  .  .  But 
I  should  need  help.  I  want  a  clever  chap  who  can 
take  down  from  dictation,  and  assist  me  in  the  de- 
tails of  composition.  I  suppose  you  would  n't  care 
to  come  here  two  or  three  evenings  a  week?" 

Richard  answered  sincerely  that  nothing  would 
suit  him  better. 

"  I  should  make  you  joint  author,  of  course. 
'  Psychology  of  the  Suburbs,'  by  Richard  Aked  and 
Richard  Larch.  It  sounds  rather  catchy,  and  I  think 
it  ought  to  sell.  About  four  hundred  octavo  pages, 
say  a  hundred  thousand  words.  Six  shillings  — ■ 
must  be  popular  in  price.  We  might  get  a  royalty 
of  ninepence  a  copy  if  we  went  to  the  right  publisher. 
Sixpence  for  me  and  threepence  for  you.  Would 
that  do?" 


A  MAN  FROM  THE  NORTH        103 

"  Oh,  perfectly !  "  But  was  not  Mr.  Aked  run- 
ning on  rather  fast? 

"  Perhaps  we  'd  better  say  fivepence  halfpenny  for 
me  and  threepence  halfpenny  for  you;  that  would  be 
fairer.  Because  you  '11  have  to  furnish  ideas,  you 
know.  '  Psychology  of  the  Suburbs,  Psychology  of 
the  Suburbs  ' !  Fine  title !  We  ought  to  do  it  in 
six  months." 

"  I  hope  you  '11  be  quite  well  again  soon.  Then 
we—" 

"  Quite  well!  "  he  repeated  sharply.  "  I  shall  be 
as  right  as  a  trivet  to-morrow.  You  don't  suppose 
that  I  can't  take  care  of  myself!  We'll  start  at 
once." 

"  You  're  not  forgetting,  Mr.  Aked,  that  you  've 
never  seen  any  of  my  stuff  yet?  Are  you  sure  I  shall 
be  able  to  do  what  you  want?  " 

"  Oh,  you  '11  do.  I  've  not  seen  your  stuff,  but  I 
guess  you  've  got  the  literary  habit.  The  literary 
habit,  that 's  the  thing!  I  '11  soon  put  you  up  to  the 
wrinkles,  the  trade  secrets." 

"  What  is  your  general  plan  of  the  book?  "  Rich- 
ard asked  with  some  timidity,  fearing  to  be  deemed 
either  stupid  or  inquisitive  at  the  wrong  mopient. 
He  had  tried  to  say  something  meet  for  a  great  oc- 
casion, and  failed. 

"  Oh,  I  '11  go  into  that  at  our  first  formal  confer- 


I04        A  MAN  FROM  THE  NORTH 

ence,  say  next  Friday  night.  Speaking  roughly,  each 
of  the  great  suburban  divisions  has,  for  me  at  any 
rate,  its  own  characteristics,  Its  peculiar  moral 
physiognomy."  Richard  nodded  appreciatively. 
"  Take  me  blindfold  to  any  street  In  London,  and 
I  '11  discover  instantly,  from  a  thousand  hints,  where 
I  am.  Well,  each  of  these  divisions  must  be 
described  in  turn,  not  topographically  of  course, 
but  the  inner  spirit,  the  soul  of  it.  See?  People 
have  got  into  a  way  of  sneering  at  the  suburbs. 
Why,  the  suburbs  are  London!  It  Is  alone  the 
—  the  concussion  of  meeting  suburbs  In  the  centre 
of  London  that  makes  the  city  and  West  End 
interesting.  We  could  show  how  the  special 
characteristics  of  the  different  suburbs  exert  a 
subtle  Influence  on  the  great  central  spots.  Take 
Fulham ;  no  one  thinks  anything  of  Fulham,  but  sup- 
pose it  were  swept  off  the  face  of  the  earth  the  ef- 
fect would  be  to  alter,  for  the  seeing  eye,  the  char- 
acter of  Piccadilly  and  the  Strand  and  Cheapslde. 
The  play  of  one  suburb  on  another  and  on  the  central 
haunts  is  as  regular,  as  orderly,  as  calculable,  as  the 
law  of  gravity  itself." 

They  continued  the  discussion  until  Adeline  came 
in  again  with  a  tray  In  her  hands,  followed  by 
the  little  red-armed  servant.     The  two  began  to  lay 


A  MAN  FROM  THE  NORTH        105 

the  cloth,  and  the  cheerful  rattle  of  crockery  filled 
the  room. 

"  Sugar,  Mr.  Larch?"  Adeline  was  saying,  when 
Mr.  Aked,  looking  meaningly  at  Richard,  ejacu- 
lated,— 

"Friday  then?" 

Richard  nodded.  Adeline  eyed  her  uncle  dis- 
trustfully. 

For  some  reason,  unguessed  by  Richard,  Adeline 
left  them  alone  during  most  of  the  evening,  and  In 
her  absence  Mr.  Aked  continued  to  discourse.  In 
vague  generalities  not  without  a  specious  poetical 
charm,  on  the  subject  upon  which  they  were  to  col- 
laborate, until  Richard  was  wholly  Intoxicated  with 
its  fascinating  possibilities.  When  he  left,  Adeline 
would  not  allow  Mr.  Aked  to  go  to  the  door,  and 
went  herself. 

"  If  I  had  n't  been  very  firm,"  she  laughed  as  they 
were  shaking  hands  in  the  passage,  "  uncle  would 
have  stood  talking  to  you  in  the  street  for  goodness 
knows  how  long,  and  forgotten  all  about  his  bron- 
chitis. Oh,  you  authors,  I  believe  you  are  every 
one  like  babies."  Richard  smiled  his  gratifica- 
tion. 

"Mr.  Larch,  Mr.  Larch  I  "  The  roguish  sum- 
mons came  after  him  when  he  was  half-way  up  the 


io6        A  MAN  FROM  THE  NORTH 

street.  He  ran  back  and  found  her  at  the  gate  with 
her  hands  behind  her. 

"What  have  you  forgotten?"  she  questioned. 
He  could  see  her  face  but  dimly  In  the  twilight  of 
the  gas-lamps. 

"  I  know  —  my  umbrella,"  he  answered. 

"Didn't  I  say  you  were  all  like  —  little  chil- 
dren! "  she  said,  as  she  whipped  out  the  umbrella 
and  gave  it  to  him  over  the  gate. 

Anxious  at  once  to  add  something  original  to  the 
sum  of  Mr.  Aked's  observations,  he  purposely  chose 
a  round-about  route  home,  through  the  western  parts 
of  Fulham  and  past  the  Salisbury  hotel.  It  seemed 
to  him  that  the  latent  poetry  of  the  suburbs  arose 
like  a  beautiful  vapour  and  filled  these  monotonous 
and  squalid  vistas  with  the  scent  and  the  colour  of 
violets,  leaving  nothing  common,  nothing  ignoble. 
In  the  upturned  eyes  of  a  shop-girl  who  went  by  on 
the  arm  of  her  lover  he  divined  a  passion  as  pure  as 
that  of  Eugenie  Grandet;  on  the  wrinkled  counte- 
nance of  an  older  woman  he  beheld  only  the  nobility 
of  suffering;  a  youth  who  walked  alone,  smoking 
a  cigarette,  was  a  pathetic  figure  perhaps  condemned 
to  years  of  solitude  In  London.  When  there  was  no 
one  else  to  see,  he  saw  Adeline, —  Adeline  with  her 
finger  on  her  lips,   Adeline   angry  with   her  uncle, 


A  MAN  FROM  THE  NORTH        107 

Adeline  pouring  out  tea,  Adeline  reaching  down  his 
hat  from  the  peg,  Adeline  laughing  at  the  gate. 
There  was  something  about  Adeline  that 
How  the  name  suited  her!  .  ,  .  Her  past  life, 
judging  from  the  hints  she  had  given,  must  have  been 
interesting.  Perhaps  that  accounted  for  the  charm 
which     .     . 

Then  he  returned  to  the  book.  He  half  regretted 
that  Mr.  Aked  should  have  a  hand  in  It  at  all.  He 
could  do  it  himself.  Just  as  plainly  as  if  the  idea  had 
been  his  own,  he  saw  the  volume  complete,  felt  the 
texture  of  the  paper,  admired  the  disposition  of  the 
titlepage,  and  the  blue  buckram  binding;  he  scanned 
the  table  of  contents,  and  carelessly  eyed  the  brief 
Introduction,  which  was,  however,  pregnant  with 
meaning;  chapter  followed  chapter  In  orderly, 
scientific  fashion,  and  the  last  summoned  up  the  whole 
business  In  a  few  masterly  and  dignified  sentences. 
Already,  before  a  single  Idea  had  been  reduced  to 
words,  "  The  Psychology  of  the  Suburbs "  was 
finished!  A  unique  work!  Other  authors  had 
taken  an  Isolated  spot  here  or  there  in  the  suburbs 
and  dissected  it,  but  none  had  viewed  them  in  their 
complex  entirety;  none  had  attempted  to  extract  from 
their  incoherence  a  coherent  philosophy,  to  deal  with 
them  sympathetically  as  Mr.  Aked  and  himself  had 
done  —  or  rather  were  to  do.     None  had  suspected 


io8        A  MAN  FROM  THE  NORTH 

that  the  suburbs  were  a  riddle,  the  answer  to  which 
was  not  undiscoverable.  Ah,  that  secret,  that  key 
to  the  cipher!  He  saw  it  as  it  might  be  behind  a 
succession  of  veils,  flimsy  obstructions  which  just  then 
baffled  his  straining  sight,  but  which  he  would  rip 
and  rend  when  the  moment  for  effort  came. 

The  same  lofty  sentiments  occupied  his  brain  the 
next  morning.  He  paused  in  the  knotting  of  his 
necktie,  to  look  out  of  the  window,  seeking  even  in 
Raphael  Street  some  fragment  of  that  psychology  of 
environment  invented  by  Mr.  Aked.  Nor  did  he 
search  quite  in  vain.  All  the  phenomena  of  humble 
life,  hitherto  witnessed  daily  without  a  second 
thought,  now  appeared  to  carry  some  mysterious 
meaning  which  was  on  the  point  of  declaring  itself. 
Friday,  when  the  first  formal  conference  was  to  oc- 
cur, seemed  distressingly  distant.  But  he  remem- 
bered that  a  very  hard  day's  work,  the  casting  and 
completing  of  a  gigantic  bill  of  costs,  awaited  him  at 
the  office,  and  he  decided  to  throw  himself  into  it 
without  reserve ;  the  time  would  pass  more  quickly. 


CHAPTER  XIII 

EVERY  solicitor's  office  has  its  great  client, 
whose  affairs,  watchfully  managed  by  the 
senior  partner  in  person,  take  precedence  of 
all  else,  and  whom  every  member  of  the  staff  regards 
with  a  particular  respect  caught  from  the  principals 
themselves.  Messrs.  Curpet  and  Smythe  were  Lon- 
don agents  to  the  tremendous  legal  firm  of  Pontlfex, 
of  Manchester,  said  to  enjoy  the  largest  practice  in 
the  midlands;  and  they  were  excusably  proud  of  the 
fact.  One  of  the  first  lessons  that  a  new  clerk  learnt 
in  the  estabhshment  at  New  Serjeant's  Court  was  that, 
at  no  matter  what  expenditure  of  time  and  trouble, 
Ponifex  business,  comprising  some  scores  of  separate 
causes,  must  be  transacted  so  irreproachably  that  old 
Mr.  Pontlfex,  by  repute  a  terrible  fellow,  might 
never  have  cause  of  complaint.  On  those  mornings, 
happily  rare,  when  a  querulous  letter  did  by  chance 
arrive  from  Manchester,  the  whole  office  trembled 
apprehensively,  and  any  clerk  likely  to  be  charged 
with  negligence  began  at  once  to  consider  the  ad- 
visability of  seeking  a  new  situation. 

The  Pontifex  bill  of  costs  was  made  up  annually 

109 


no       A  MAN  FROM  THE  NORTH 

in  June.  As  the  time  drew  near  for  presenting  It, 
more  and  more  clerks  were  pressed  Into  Its  service, 
until  at  the  last  everyone  found  himself  engaged,  in 
one  way  or  another,  upon  this  colossal  account. 

When  Richard  arrived  at  the  office,  he  found  the 
Immense  pile  of  white  foolscap  sheets  upon  his  table, 
and  next  it  the  still  higher  pile  of  blue  sheets  form- 
ing the  draft  bill.  All  was  finished  except  the 
checking  of  the  figures  and  the  final  castings.  As  the 
cashier  and  accountant,  he  was  ultimately  responsible 
for  this.  He  parcelled  out  the  sheets,  keeping  the 
largest  share  for  himself,  and  the  work  began.  In 
every  room  there  was  a  low  muttering  of  figures, 
broken  by  an  occasional  oath  when  someone  hap- 
pened to  lose  the  thread  of  an  addition.  The  prin- 
cipals hovered  about,  full  of  solicitude  and  encour- 
agement, and,  according  to  custom  on  such  occasions, 
lunch  was  served  on  the  premises  at  the  firm's  ex- 
pense. Richard  continued  to  add  while  eating,  keep- 
ing his  head  clear  and  seldom  making  a  mistake; 
nothing  existed  for  him  but  the  column  of  pounds, 
shillings,  and  pence  under  his  eyes. 

The  pile  of  finished  sheets  grew,  and  soon  the  of- 
fice boys,  commanded  by  Jenkins,  were  passing  the 
earlier  portion  of  the  bill  through  the  copying-press. 
As  the  hours  went  by,  the  helpers  from  other  depart- 
ments, no  longer  required,  went  back  to  their  own 


A  MAN  FROM  THE  NORTH        iii 

neglected  duties,  and  Richard  did  the  last  additions 
.alone.  At  length  the  bill  was  absolutely  finished,  and 
he  carried  It  himself  to  the  stationer's  to  be  sewed. 
In  half  an  hour  It  came  back,  and  he  laid  It  cere- 
moniously before  Mr.  Curpet.  The  grand  total 
went  round  the  office,  leaping  from  lip  to  lip  like  the 
result  of  an  Important  parliamentary  poll.  It  was 
higher  than  In  any  previous  year  by  nearly  a  thousand 
pounds.  Each  of  the  clerks  took  a  personal  pride  In 
its  bigness,  and  secretly  determined  to  petition  for 
an  Increase  of  salary  at  the  first  opportunity.  They 
talked  together  In  groups,  discussing  details,  while 
a  comfortable  lassitude  spread  from  room  to  room. 
Richard  stood  by  the  open  window,  absently  watch- 
ing the  pigeons  and  the  cleaners  at  the  Law  Courts 
opposite.  In  a  corner  an  office  boy,  new  to  his  work, 
was  stamping  envelopes  with  slow  precision. 
Jenkins,  with  one  foot  on  a  table,  was  tying  a  shoe 
lace.  It  had  struck  six  ten  minutes  ago,  and  every- 
one was  gone  except  Mr.  Smythe,  whose  departure 
Jenkins  awaited  with  Impatience.  The  hot  day  sub- 
sided slowly  to  a  serene  and  lovely  evening,  and  the 
customary  noises  of  the  Strand  ascended  to  Richard 
hke  the  pastoral  hum  of  a  valley  to  a  dweller  on  a 
hill,  not  breaking  but  rather  completing  the  still- 
ness of  the  hour.  Gradually  his  brain  freed  Itself 
from  the  obsession  of  figures,  though  he  continued  to 


112       A  MAN  FROM  THE  NORTH 

muse  vaguely  over  the  bill,  which  had  just  been 
posted.  It  would  certainly  be  settled  by  cheque 
within  a  week,  for  Messrs.  Pontifex  were  invariably 
prompt.  That  cheque,  which  he  himself  would 
enter  and  pay  into  the  bank,  amounted  to  as  much  as 
he  could  earn  In  twenty  years,  if  he  remained  a  clerk. 
He  tried  to  imagine  the  scene  in  which,  at  some  future 
date,  he  would  give  Mr.  Curpet  notice  of  his  in- 
tention to  resign  his  position,  explaining  that  he  pre- 
ferred to  support  himself  by  literature.  The  inef- 
fable sweetness  of  such  a  triumph!  Could  he  ever 
realise  it?  He  could,  he  must;  the  alternative  of 
eternal  clerkship  was  not  to  be  endured.  His  glance 
fell  on  Jenkins.  That  poor,  gay,  careless,  vulgar 
animal  would  always  be  a  clerk.  The  thought  filled 
him  with  commiseration,  and  also  with  pride.  Fancy 
Jenkins  writing  a  book  called  "  The  Psychology  of 
the  Suburbs  " ! 

"  I  'm  going  to  smoke,"  Jenkins  said;  "  be  blowed 
to  Bertie  dear."  (Mrs.  Smythe  had  once  addressed 
her  husband  In  the  office  as  "  Bertie  dear,"  and 
thenceforth  that  had  been  his  name  among  the  staff.) 
Richard  made  no  answer.  When  a  minute  later 
Jenkins,  discreetly  directing  his  puffs  to  the  open  win- 
dow, asked  him  for  the  titles  of  one  or  two  of  Zola's 
novels  in  English,  and  their  price,  he  gave  the  re- 
quired information  without  turning  round  and  in  a 


A  MAN  FROM  THE  NORTH        113 

preoccupied  tone.  It  was  his  wish  at  that  moment 
to  appear  dreamy.  Perhaps  a  hint  of  the  intellect- 
ual difference  between  them  would  suggest  itself  even 
to  Jenkins.  Suddenly  a  voice  that  seemed  to  be  Mr. 
Smythe's  came  from  the  other  side  of  the  glass  par- 
tition which  separated  the  room  from  the  general 
corridor. 

"  Jenkins,  what  the  devil  do  you  mean  by  smoking 
in  the  office?"  The  pipe  vanished  instantly,  and 
Jenkins  faced  his  accuser  in  some  confusion,  only  to 
find  that  he  had  been  victimised.  It  was  Mr. 
Aked. 

"  You  're  as  gassy  as  ever,  I  see,"  Jenkins  said  with 
a  shade  of  annoyance.  Mr.  Aked  laughed,  and  then 
began  to  cough  badly,  bending  forward  with  flushed 
cheeks. 

"  Surely  you  should  n't  have  left  the  house  to- 
day," Richard  said,  alarmed. 

"  Why  not?  "     The  retort  was  almost  fierce. 

"  You  're  not  fit." 

"  Fiddlesticks  I     I  've  only  got  a  bit  of  a  cough." 

Richard  wondered  what  he  had  called  for. 

Jenkins  began  to  discuss  with  him  the  shortcomings 
of  Mr.  Smythe  as  an  employer,  and  when  that  fruit- 
ful subject  had  been  exhausted  there  was  a  silence. 

"  Coming  home?  "  Mr.  Aked  asked  Richard,  who 
at  once  prepared  to  leave. 


114       A  MAN  FROM  THE  NORTH 

"  By  the  way,  Larch,  how  's  the  mash?  "  Jenkins 
wore  his  archest  manner. 

"What  mash?" 

"  Why,  the  girl  you  said  you  were  going  to  see 
yesterday  afternoon." 

"  I  never  said  — "  Richard  began,  looking  nerv- 
ously towards  Mr.  Aked. 

"  Oh,  no,  of  course  not.  Do  you  know,  Mr. 
Aked,  he  's  begun  his  little  games  with  the  women. 
These  fellows  from  the  country  —  so  shy  and  all 
that  —  they  're  regular  cautions  when  you  come  to 
know  them."     But  Mr.  Aked  made  no  response. 

"  I  was  thinking  you  might  as  well  come  down  to- 
morrow night  instead  of  Friday,"  he  said  quietly  to 
Richard,  who  had  busied  himself  with  the  locking  of 
a  safe. 

"To-morrow?  Certainly,  I  shall  be  very  glad," 
Richard  answered.  Evidently  Mr.  Aked  was  as 
eager  as  himself  to  make  a  beginning  of  the  book. 
No  doubt  that  was  why  he  had  called.  Surely,  to- 
gether they  would  accomplish  something  notable ! 

Jenkins  had  climbed  on  a  lofty  stool.  He  gave 
vent  to  a  whistle,  and  the  other  two  observed  that  his 
features  were  twisted  Into  an  expression  of  delirious 
mirth. 

"  Aha !  aha !  "  he  grinned,  looking  at  Richard. 
"  I  begin  to  perceive.     You  're  after  the  pretty  niece, 


A  MAN  FROM  THE  NORTH        115 

eh,  Master  Larch?  And  a  nice  plump  little  thing 
she  is,  too  I  She  came  here  once  to  fetch  ,-.uncle 
home." 

Mr.  Aked  sprang  instantly  forward  and  cuffed 
Jenkins'  ear. 

"  It 's  not  the  first  time  I  Ve  had  to  do  that,  nor  the 
second,"  he  said.  "  I  suppose  you  never  will  learn 
to  behave  yourself."  Jenkins  could  easily  have 
thrashed  the  old  man  —  he  really  looked  old  to-day 
—  and  no  consideration  for  the  latter's  age  would 
have  restrained  him  from  doing  so,  had  not  the  habit 
of  submission  acquired  during  those  years  when  Mr. 
Aked  ruled  the  outer  office  proved  stronger  than  his 
rage.  As  it  was,  he  took  up  a  safe  position  behind 
the  stool  and  contented  himself  with  words. 

"You're  a  beauty,  you  are!"  he  began. 
"How's  the  red-haired  A.  B.  C.  girl  getting  on? 
You  know,  the  one  that  lost  her  place  at  the  Courts' 
restaurant  through  you.  If  she  had  n't  been  a  fool, 
she  'd  have  brought  an  action  for  breach  of  promise. 
And  how  many  more  are  there  ?     I  wonder  — " 

Mr.  Aked  made  an  uncertain  dart  after  him,  but 
he  vanished  through  the  doorway,  only  to  encounter 
Mr.  Symthe.  With  a  rather  servile  "  'd  afternoon, 
sir,"  to  the  latter,  Mr.  Aked  walked  rapidly  out  of 
the  office. 

"  What  the  devil  are  you  all  up  to?  "  Mr.  Smythe 


(( 


ii6        A  MAN  FROM  THE  NORTH 

inquired  crossly.     "  Is  Aked  after  money,  Larch?  " 
"  Not  at  all,  Mr.  Smythe.     He  only  called  to  see 
me. 

You  are  a  friend  of  his,  are  you?  " 

Well,  I  know  him." 

H'm !  Jenkins,  come  and  take  a  letter." 
As  Richard  hurried  down  into  the  court,  he  felt  ex- 
ceedingly angry  with  Mr.  Aked.  Why  could  not 
the  man  be  more  dignified?  Everyone  seemed  to 
treat  him  with  contempt,  and  the  cause  was  not  al- 
together obscure.  He  had  no  dignity.  Richard  felt 
personally  aggrieved. 

Neither  of  them  spoke  of  the  recent  incident  as 
they  walked  down  to  the  Temple  station.  Mr. 
Aked,  indeed,  said  nothing;  a  fit  of  coughing  occu- 
pied him.  Somehow  Richard's  faith  in  "  The  Psy- 
chology of  the  Surburbs  "  had  lessened  a  little  during 
the  last  half-hour. 


CHAPTER  XIV 

^  ^  "W"  S  that  you,  Mr.  Larch?  " 

I  He  distinctly  made  out  Adeline's  head 

JL    and  bust   above   him.     Her  white   apron 

was  pressed  against  the  bannisters,  as  with  extended 

arms  and  hands  grasping  the  stair-rail  she  leaned 

over  to  see  who  was  below. 

"  It  Is,  Miss  Aked,"  he  answered.  "  The  door 
was  open,  and  so  I  walked  in.     Is  anything  wrong?  " 

"  I  Ve  just  sent  Lottie  out  for  the  doctor.  Uncle 
is  very  ill.  I  wish  you  'd  see  that  he  comes  at  once. 
It 's  in  the  Fulham  Road,  a  little  to  the  left  —  you  '11 
notice  the  red  lamp." 

As  Richard  ran  out,  he  met  the  doctor,  a  youngish 
man  with  a  Scots  face  and  grey  hair,  hurrying  down 
the  street,  the  servant-girl  breathless  in  the  rear. 

"  Master  was  took  ill  last  night,  sir,"  the  latter 
said,  in  answer  to  Richard's  question.  "  Pneumonia, 
the  doctor  says  as  it  is,  and  something  else,  and 
there  's  coming  a  nurse  to-night.  Master  has  attacks 
of  it,  sir  —  he  can't  get  his  breath." 

He  stood  in  the  passage,  uncertain  what  to  do;  the 
doctor  had  already  gone  upstairs. 

"7 


ii8        A  MAN  FROM  THE  NORTH 

"  It  must  be  very  serious,"  he  murmured. 

"  Yes,  sir."  Lottie  began  to  whimper.  Richard 
said  he  would  call  again  later  to  make  Inquiries,  and 
presently  discovered  himself  In  Fulham  Road,  walk- 
ing slowly  towards  Putney. 

Mr.  Aked's  case  was  hopeless;  of  that  Richard 
felt  sure.     The  man  must  be  getting  on  in  years, 
and  his    frame,    not   constitutionally   vigorous,    had 
doubtless  been  fatally  weakened  by  long-continued 
carelessness.     What   a   strange   creature   of  whims 
and  enthusiasms  he  was!     Although  there  could  be 
no  question  as  to  his  age,  Richard  never  regarded 
him  as  more  than  a   few  years  older  than  himself. 
He  had  none  of  the  melancholy,  the  circumspection, 
the  fixity  of  view,  the  prudent  tendency  towards  com- 
promise, the  serene  contented  apathy,  which  usually 
mark  his  time  of  life.     He  was  still  delicately  sus- 
ceptible to  new  Influences,  his  Ideals  were  as  fluid  as 
Richard's  own.     Life  had  taught  him  scarcely  any- 
thing, and  least  of  all  sagacity  and  a  dignified  car- 
riage.    He  was  the  typical  bachelor,  whose  deeper 
feelings  have  never  been  stirred.     Did  regrets  for 
a  possibly  happier  past,  shadows  of  dead  faces,  the 
memory  of  kisses,  ever  ruffle  his  equanimity?     Rich- 
ard thought  not.     He  must  always  have  lived  in  the 
present.     But  he  was  an  artist:  though  somehow  the 
man  had  descended  In  his  estimation,  Richard  clung 


A  MAN  FROM  THE  NORTH        119 

to  that.  He  possessed  imagination  and  he  possessed 
intellect,  and  he  could  fuse  them  together.  Yet  he 
had  been  a  failure.  Viewed  in  certain  lights,  Rich- 
ard admitted  he  was  a  pitiful  figure.  What  was 
his  true  history?  Richard  felt  instinctively  that 
none  could  answer  that  question,  even  in  outline, 
except  Mr.  Aked,  and  suddenly  he  discerned  that 
the  man's  nature,  apparently  frank  to  immodesty, 
had  its  own  reserves,  the  existence  of  which  few  ever 
suspected.  And  when  the  worst  was  said,  Mr. 
Aked  possessed  originality;  in  an  incongruous  way  he 
still  retained  the  naive  graces  of  youthfulness;  he 
was  inspiring,  and  had  exerted  influences  for  which 
Richard  could  not  but  be  grateful. 

"  The  Psychology  of  the  Suburbs  "  had  receded 
swiftly  into  the  background,  a  beautiful,  impossible 
idea !  Richard  knew  now  that  it  could  never  have 
been  carried  out.  A  little  progress  would  have 
been  made,  and  then,  as  difficulties  increased,  both 
he  and  Mr.  Aked  would  have  tacitly  abandoned 
their  enterprise.  They  were  very  much  alike,  he 
thought,  and  the  fancied  similarity  pleased  him. 
Perhaps  at  some  future  time  he  might  himself  carry 
the  undertaking  to  completion,  in  which  case  he 
would  dedicate  his  book  to  the  memory  of  Mr. 
Aked.  He  did  not  regret  that  the  dream  of  the  last 
few  days  was  ended.      It  had  been  very  enjoyable, 


I20       A  MAN  FROM  THE  NORTH 

but  the  awakening,  since  according  [to  his  present 
wisdom  it  must  have  occurred]  sooner  or  later,  was 
less  unpleasant  now  than  it  could  have  been  at  any 
more  advanced  stage.  Moreover,  It  was  pleasant  to 
dream  of  the  dream. 

Mr.  Aked  was  dying:  he  knew  It  from  Adeline's 
tone.  Poor  Adeline!  To  whom  would  she  turn? 
She  had  Implied  that  the  only  relatives  for  whom  she 
cared,  these  being  on  her  mother's  side,  were  in 
America.  From  whom  would  she  seek  assistance? 
iWho  would  conduct  the  formalities  of  the  funeral, 
and  the  testamentary  business,  such  as  It  was?  His 
loathing  for  funerals  seemed  to  have  vanished,  and 
he  was  not  without  hope  that  Adeline,  though  their 
acquaintance  was  of  the  shortest,  might  engage  his 
help  for  her  helplessness.  And  after  the  funeral, 
what  would  she  do?  Since  she  would  probably  have 
enough  to  live  upon,  she  might  elect  to  remain  where 
she  was.  In  which  case  he  would  visit  her  now  and 
then  of  an  evening.  Her  Imminent  loneliness  gave 
her  a  pathetic  charm,  and  he  made  haste  to  draw  a 
picture  of  himself  and  her  on  either  side  the  fire- 
place talking  familiarly  while  she  knitted  or  sewed. 

Yes,  he  was  actually  a  grown  man,  and  entitled 
to  his  romances.  He  might  eventually  fall  in  love 
with  her,  having  discovered  in  her  character  rare 
qualities  now  unsuspected.     It  was  improbable,  but 


A  MAN  FROM  THE  NORTH        121 

not  impossible,  and  he  had,  in  fact,  already  glanced 
at  the  contingency  several  times  before.  Oh  for  a 
passion,  a  glorious  infatuation,  even  if  it  ended  in 
disaster  and  ruin !  The  difficulty  was  that  Adeline 
fell  short  of  the  ideal  lover.  That  virginal  ab- 
straction was  to  have  been  an  artist  of  some  sort, 
absolutely  irreligious,  broad  In  social  views,  the  es- 
sence of  refinement,  with  a  striking  but  not  neces- 
sarily beautiful  face,  soft-spoken,  and  isolated  —  un- 
trammelled by  friends.  Adeline  was  no  artist;  he 
feared  she  might  be  a  regular  attendant  at  chapel 
and  painfully  orthodox  as  to  the  sexual  relations. 
Was  she  refined?  Had  she  a  striking  face?  He 
said  Yes,  twice.  Her  voice  was  low  and  full  of 
pretty  modulations.  Soon,  perhaps,  she  would  be 
alone  In  the  world.  If  only  she  had  been  an  artist 
.  That  deficiency,  he  was  afraid,  would 
prove  fatal  to  any  serious  attachment.  Still,  it 
would  be  good  to  visit  her. 

He  was  crossing  Putney  Bridge.  Night  had 
fallen,  and  the  full  brilliant  moon  showed  a  narrow 
stream  crawling  between  two  broad  flats  of  mud. 
Just  below  the  bridge  a  barge  lay  at  anchor;  the 
silhouette  of  a  man  moved  leisurely  about  on  It,  and 
then  a  boat  detached  Itself  from  the  stem  of  the 
barge  and  dropped  down  river  into  darkness.  On 
the     bridge     busses    and   waggons     rattled     noisily. 


122        A  MAN  FROM  THE  NORTH 

Young  men  with  straw  hats  and  girls  in  white 
blouses  and  black  skirts  passed  to  and  fro  in  pairs, 
some  chattering,  some  silent.  The  sight  of  these 
couples  gave  Richard  an  idea  for  the  abandoned 
"  Psychology  of  the  Suburbs."  What  if  Mr.  Aked 
recovered?  He  remembered  his  sister  telling  him 
that  their  grandfather  had  survived  after  having 
been  three  times  surrendered  to  death  by  the  doc- 
tors. "  The  Psychology  of  the  Suburbs  "  began  to 
attract  him.  It  might  come  to  completion,  if  Mr. 
Aked  hved,  and  then  .  .  .  But  what  about 
those  evenings  with  the  lonely  Adeline?  The  two 
vistas  of  the  future  clashed  with  and  obscured  each 
other,  and  he  was  overcome  by  vague  foreboding. 
He  saw  Mr.  Aked  struggling  for  breath  in  the  mean 
suburban  bedroom,  and  Adeline  powerless  at  his 
side.  The  pathos  of  her  position  became  intoler- 
able. 

When  he  got  back  to  Carteret  Street,  It  was  she 
who  came  to  the  door. 

"How  is  he?" 

"  About  the  same.  The  nurse  has  come.  She 
told  me  to  go  to  bed  at  once,  but  I  don't  feel  as  if 
I  wanted  to  sleep.     You  will  sit  down  a  little?  " 

She  took  the  rocking-chair,  and  leaning  back  with 
a  gesture  of  lassitude  rocked  gently;  her  white  face. 


A  MAN  FROM  THE  NORTH        123 

with  the  red  eyes  and  drooping  eyelids,  gave  sign  of 
excessive  fatigue,  and  on  her  lips  there  was  a  gloomy 
pout.  After  she  had  described  Mr.  Aked's  condi- 
tion in  some  detail  and  told  what  the  doctor  had 
said,  they  sat  silent  for  a  while  in  that  tense  atmos- 
phere which  seems  to  stifle  vitality  in  a  house  of 
dangerous  sickness.  Overhead  the  nurse  moved 
about,  making  the  window  rattle  softly  now  and 
then. 

"  You  have  known  uncle  a  long  time,  have  n't 
you?" 

*'  Not  at  all,"  Richard  answered.  "  It 's  a  very 
funny  thing,  but  though  I  seem  to  know  him  quite 
well,  I  've  not  met  him  half  a  dozen  times  in  my 
life.  I  saw  him  first  about  a  year  ago,  and  then  I 
met  him  again  the  other  day  at  the  British  Museum, 
and  after  we  'd  had  dinner  together  we  were  just 
like  old  friends." 

"  I  certainly  thought  from  what  he  said  that  you 
were  old  friends.  Uncle  has  so  few  friends.  Ex- 
cept one  or  two  neighbours  I  do  believe  you  are  the 
first  person  that  has  ever  called  at  this  house  since  I 
came  to  live  here." 

"  At  any  rate,  we  have  soon  got  to  know  each 
other,"  said  Richard,  smiling.  "  It  is  n't  a  week 
since  you  asked  me  if  my  name  was  Larch."  She 
returned  the  smile,  though  rather  mechanically. 


124       A  MAN  FROM  THE  NORTH 

"  Perhaps  my  mistake  about  your  being  an  old 
friend  of  Uncle  Aked's  explains  that,"  she  said. 

"  Well,  we  won't  bother  about  explaining  it;  there 
it  is,  and  if  I  can  help  you  in  any  way  just  now, 
you  must  tell  me." 

"  Thank  you,  I  will."  She  said  it  with  perfect 
simplicity.  Richard  was  conscious  of  a  scarcely  per- 
ceptible thrill. 

"  You  must  have  had  an  awful  time  last  night,  all 
alone,"  he  said. 

"  Yes,  but  I  was  too  annoyed  to  feel  upset." 

"Annoyed?" 

"  Because  uncle  has  brought  it  all  on  himself  by 
carelessness.  I  do  think  it 's  a  shame !  "  She 
stopped  rocking,  and  sat  up,  her  face  full  of  serious 
protest. 

"  He  's  not  the  sort  of  man  to  take  care  of  him- 
self.    He  never  thought — " 

"  That 's  just  it.  He  should  have  thought,  at  his 
age.  If  he  dies,  he  will  practically  have  killed  him- 
self, yes,  killed  himself.  There  's  no  excuse,  going 
out  as  he  did,  in  spite  of  all  I  said.  Fancy  him 
coming  downstairs  last  Sunday  in  the  state  he  was, 
and  then  going  out  on  Monday,  though  it  was 
warm!  " 

"  Well,  we  '11  hope  he  will  get  better,  and  it  may 
be  a  lesson  to  him." 


A  MAN  FROM  THE  NORTH        125 

"Harkl  What  was  that?"  She  sprang  to  her 
feet  apprehensively  and  listened,  her  breast  pulsing 
beneath  the  tight  black  bodice  and  her  startled  in- 
quiring eyes  fixed  on  Richard's.  A  very  faint  tinkle 
came  from  the  rear  of  the  house. 

"  Perhaps  the  front-door  bell,"  he  suggested. 

"  Of  course.  How  silly  of  me !  I  fancied 
.  .  .  Who  can  it  be  at  this  time?"  She  went 
softly  Into  the  passage.  Richard  heard  the  door 
open,  and  then  a  woman's  voice,  which  somehow 
seemed  familiar, — 

"  How  is  Mr.  Aked  to-night?  Your  servant  told 
our  servant  that  he  was  ill,  and  I  felt  anxious." 

"  Oh  I  "  Adeline  exclaimed,  discomposed  for  a 
moment,  as  It  seemed  to  Richard;  then  she  went  on 
coldly,  "  Uncle  is  about  the  same,  thank  you,"  and 
almost  immediately  closed  the  door. 

"  A  person  to  inquire  about  uncle,"  she  said  to 
Richard,  with  a  peculiar  intonation,  on  re-entering 
the  room.  Then,  just  as  he  was  saying  that  he 
must  go,  there  was  a  knock  on  the  ceiling  and  she 
flew  away  again.  Richard  waited  In  the  passage 
till  she  came  downstairs. 

"  It 's  nothing.  I  thought  he  was  dying!  Oh!  " 
and  she  began  to  cry  freely  and  openly,  without  at- 
tempting to  wipe  her  eyes. 

Richard  gazed  hard  at  the  apron  string  loosely 


126       A  MAN  FROM  THE  NORTH 

encircling  her  waist;  from  that  white  line  her 
trembling  bust  rose  like  a  bud  from  its  calyx,  and 
below  it  the  black  dress  flowed  over  her  broad  hips 
in  gathered  folds;  he  had  never  seen  a  figure  so  ex- 
quisite, and  the  beauty  of  it  took  a  keener  poignancy 
from  their  sohtude  in  the  still,  anxious  night  —  the 
nurse  and  the  sick  man  were  in  another  sphere. 

"Hadn't  you  better  go  to  bed?"  he  said. 
"  You  must  be  tired  out  and  over-excited."  How 
awkward  and  conventional  the  words  sounded! 


CHAPTER  XV 

IN  Adeline's  idiosyncrasy  there  was  a  subtle, 
elusive  suggestion  of  singularity,  of  unexpected- 
ness, which  Richard  in  spite  of  himself  found 
very  alluring,  and  he  correctly  attributed  it,  in  some 
degree,  to  the  peculiar  circumstances  of  her  early 
life,  an  account  of  which,  with  characteristic  quaint- 
ness,  she  had  given  him  at  their  second  meeting. 

The  posthumous  child  of  Richard  Aked's  brother, 
Adeline,  who  had  no  recollection  of  her  mother, 
lived  at  first  with  her  maternal  grandparents  and 
two  uncles.  She  slept  alone  at  the  top  of  the  house, 
and  when  she  arose  in  the  morning  from  the  big  bed 
with  its  red  curtains  and  yellow  tassels,  she  always 
ran  to  the  window.  Immediately  below  here  were 
the  leads  which  roofed  the  great  projecting  win- 
dows of  the  shop.  It  was  her  practice  at  night  to 
scatter  crumbs  on  the  leads,  and  sometimes  she 
would  be  early  enough  to  watch  the  sparrows  peck- 
ing them;  more  often  all  the  crumbs  had  vanished 
while  she  was  yet  asleep.  The  Square  never  failed 
to  interest  her  in  the  morning.     In  the  afternoon  it 

127 


128       A  MAN  FRDM  THE  NORTH 

seemed  torpid  and  morose;  but  before  dinner,  more 
especially  on  Saturdays  and  Mondays,  it  was  gaily 
alert  —  full  of  canvas-covered  stalls,  and  horses  and 
carts,  and  heaped  piles  of  vegetables,  and  pigs 
grunting  amidst  straw,  and  rough  rosy-faced  men, 
their  trousers  tied  at  the  knees  with  string,  who 
walked  about  heavily,  cracking  whips.  These 
things  arrived  mysteriously,  before  the  sun,  and  In 
the  afternoon  they  dwindled  imperceptibly  away; 
the  stalls  were  unthatched,  the  carts  jolted  off  one 
by  one,  and  the  pigs  departed  squeaking,  until  at 
five  o'clock  the  littered  Square  was  left  deserted  and 
forlorn.  Now  and  again  a  new  stall,  unfolding  vivid 
white  canvas,  stood  out  brightly  amid  its  soiled  com- 
panions; then  Adeline  would  run  downstairs  to  her 
favourite  uncle,  who  had  breakfast  at  7.30  so  that 
he  might  be  In  charge  of  the  shop  while  the  rest 
were  at  table :  "  Uncle  Mark,  Uncle  Mark,  there 
is  a  new  stall  up  at  the  top  of  the  Square,  near  the 
New  Inn  I"  "Perhaps  it  is  only  an  old  one  with 
its  face  washed,"  Uncle  Mark  would  say;  and  Ade- 
line, raising  her  right  shoulder,  would  put  her  head 
on  it  and  laugh,  screwing  up  her  eyes. 

In  those  days  she  was  like  a  little  Puritan  girl, 
with  her  plain  frocks  and  prim  gait.  Her  black 
hair,  confined  by  a  semicircular  comb  which  stretched 
from   ear   to   ear   over   the   top   of   her   head,    was 


A  MAN  FROM  THE  NORTH        129 

brushed  straight  away  from  her  forehead,  and  fell 
across  the  entire  width  of  her  shoulders  in  glossy, 
wavy  lines.  Her  grey  eyes  were  rather  large,  ex- 
cept when  she  laughed,  and  they  surveyed  people 
with  a  frank,  inquiring  look  which  frightened  some 
of  the  commercial  travellers  who  came  into  the  shop 
and  gave  her  threepenny  bits;  it  seemed  as  if  all 
one's  secret  shames  stood  revealed  to  that  artless 
gaze.  Her  nose  was  short  and  flattened,  but  her 
mouth  happened  to  be  perfect,  of  exactly  the  classic 
form  and  size,  with  delectable  lips  half  hiding  the 
small  white  teeth. 

To  her  the  house  appeared  to  be  of  immense  pro- 
portions; she  had  been  told  that  once,  before  she 
was  born,  it  was  three  houses.  Certainly  it  pos- 
sessed more  than  the  usual  number  of  staircases,  and 
one  of  these,  with  the  single  room  to  which  it  gave 
access,  was  always  closed.  From  the  Square,  the 
window  of  the  disused  chamber,  obscured  and  bare, 
contrasted  strangely  with  the  clear  panes,  white 
blinds,  and  red  pads  of  the  others.  This  room  was 
next  to  her  own,  the  two  staircases  running  parallel; 
and  the  thought  of  its  dread  emptiness  awed  her  at 
nights.  One  Saturday  night  in  bed  she  discovered 
that  grandma,  who  had  been  plaiting  her  hair  for 
Sunday,  had  left  a  comb  sticking  in  it.  She  called 
aloud  to  grandma,  to  Uncle  Mark,  to  Uncle  Luke, 


130       A  MAN  FROM  THE  NORTH 

in  vain.  None  of  them  came  to  her;  but  she  dis- 
tinctly heard  an  answering  cry  from  the  shut  room. 
She  ceased  to  call,  and  lay  fearfully  quiet  for  a  while; 
then  it  was  morning,  and  the  comb  had  slipped  out 
of  her  hair  and  down  into  the  bed. 

Beneath  the  house  were  many  cellars.  One 
served  for  kitchen,  and  Adeline  had  a  swing  there, 
hung  from  a  beam;  two  others  were  larders;  a 
fourth  held  coal,  and  in  a  fifth  ashes  were  thrown. 
There  were  yet  two  more  under  the  shop,  to  be 
reached  by  a  separate  flight  of  stone  steps.  Uncle 
Mark  went  down  those  steps  every  afternoon  to  turn 
on  the  gas,  but  he  would  never  allow  Adeline  to  go 
with  him.  Grandma,  indeed,  was  very  cross  if, 
when  the  door  leading  to  the  steps  happened  to  be 
open,  Adeline  approached  within  a  yard  of  it. 
Often,  chattering  to  the  shop-girls,  who  at  quiet 
times  of  the  day  clustered  round  the  stove  with  their 
sewing,  she  would  suddenly  think  of  the  cellars  be- 
low, and  her  heart  would  seem  to  stop. 

If  the  shutters  were  up,  the  shop  was  even  more 
terribly  mysterious  than  either  the  cellars  or  the 
disused  room.  On  Sunday  afternoons,  when 
grandpa  snored  behind  a  red  and  yellow  handker- 
chief in  the  breakfast-room,  it  was  necessary  for 
Adeline  to  go  through  the  shop  and  up  the  show- 
room staircase,  in  order  to  reach  the  drawing-room, 


A  MAN  FROM  THE  NORTH        131 

because  to  get  to  the  house  staircase  would  involve 
disturbing  the  sleeper.  How  strange  the  shop 
looked  as  she  hurried  timorously  across !  A  dim 
twilight,  worse  than  total  darkness,  filtered  through 
the  cracks  of  the  shutters,  showing  faintly  the  sallow 
dust-sheets  which  covered  the  merinos  and  the 
chairs  on  the  counters,  and  she  always  reached  the 
show-room,  which  had  two  large,  unobstructed  win- 
dows, with  a  sob  of  relief.  Very  few  customers 
were  asked  into  the  show-room;  Adeline  employed 
it  on  weekdays  as  a  nursery;  here  she  nursed  her 
dolls,  flew  kites,  and  read  "  Little  Wideawake,"  a 
book  given  to  her  by  a  commercial  traveller;  there 
was  a  cheval  glass  near  the  front  window  In  which 
she  contemplated  herself  long  and  seriously. 

She  never  had  the  companionship  of  other  chil- 
dren, nor  did  she  desire  it.  Other  children,  she  un- 
derstood, were  rude  and  dirty;  although  Uncle 
Mark  and  Uncle  Luke  taught  in  the  Sun- 
day-school, and  grandpa  had  once  actually  been 
superintendent,  she  was  not  allowed  to  go 
there,  simply  because  the  children  were  rude 
and  dirty.  But  she  went  to  morning  chapel, 
sitting  alone  with  grandpa  on  the  red  cushions  of 
the  broad  pew,  that  creaked  every  time  she  moved; 
Uncle  Mark  and  Uncle  Luke  sat  away  up  in  the  gal- 
lery with  the  rude  and  dirty  Sunday-school  children; 


t^i       A  MAN  FROM  THE  NORTH 

grandma  seldom  went  to  chapel;  the  ministers  called 
to  see  her  instead.  Once  to  her  amazement  Uncle 
Luke  had  ascended  the  pulpit  stairs,  looking  just  as 
if  he  was  walking  in  his  sleep,  and  preached.  It 
seemed  so  strange,  and  afterwards  the  religious 
truths  which  she  had  been  taught  somehow  lost  their 
awfulness  and  some  of  their  reality.  On  Sunday 
evenings  she  celebrated  her  own  private  service,  in 
which  she  was  preacher,  choir,  organist,  and  con- 
gregation. Her  extempore  prayers  were  the  secret 
admiration  of  grandma,  who  alone  heard  them. 
Adeline  stayed  up  for  supper  on  Sundays.  When 
the  meal  was  over,  grandpa  opened  the  big  Bible, 
and  in  his  rich,  heavy  voice  read  that  Shem  begat 
Arphaxad  and  Arphaxad  begat  Salah  and  Salah  be- 
gat Eber  and  Eber  begat  Pelag,  and  about  the  Am- 
monites and  the  Jebusites  and  the  Canaanites  and 
the  Moabites;  and  then  they  knelt,  and  he  prayed 
for  them  that  rule  over  us,  and  widows  and  orphans; 
and  at  the  word  "  orphans,"  grandma,  who  did  n't 
kneel  like  the  others  but  sat  upright  in  her  rocking- 
chair  with  one  hand  over  her  eyes,  would  say 
"  Amen,  Amen,"  under  her  breath.  And  after  it 
was  all  over  Adeline  would  choose  whether  Uncle 
Mark  or  Uncle  Luke  should  carry  her  to  bed. 

Grandpa    died,    and    then    grandma,    and    Aunt 
Grace   (who  was  not  an  aunt  at  all,  but  a  cousin) 


A  MAN  FROM  THE  NORTH        133 

came  to  stay  with  Adeline  and  her  uncles,  and  one 
day  the  shutters  of  the  shop  were  put  up  and  not 
taken  down  again.  Adeline  learnt  that  Uncle  Mark 
and  Uncle  Luke  were  going  a  long  way  off,  to  Amer- 
ica, and  that  she  was  to  live  In  future  with  Aunt 
Grace  In  a  large  and  splendid  house  full  of  coloured 
pictures  and  statues  and  books.  It  seemed  odd 
that  Aunt  Grace,  whose  dresses  were  rather  shabby, 
should  have  a  finer  house  than  grandpa's,  until 
Uncle  Mark  explained  that  the  house  did  not  really 
belong  to  Aunt  Grace;  Aunt  Grace  merely  kept  It  in 
order  for  a  rich  young  gentleman  who  had  fifteen 
servants. 

When  she  had  recovered  from  the  parting  with 
her  uncles,  Adeline  accepted  the  change  with  do- 
cility. Long  inured  as  she  was  to  spiritual  solitude 
(for  the  closest  friendship  that  can  exist  between  a 
child  and  an  adult  comprises  little  more  than  an 
affectionate  tolerance  on  either  side,  and  certainly 
knows  nothing  of  those  intimate  psychic  affinities 
which  attract  child  to  child  or  man  to  man),  she 
could  not.  Indeed,  have  easily  found  much  hardship 
In  the  conditions  of  her  new  life.  One  matter 
troubled  her  at  first,  namely,  that  Aunt  Grace  never 
prayed  or  read  the  Bible  or  went  to  chapel ;  nor,  so 
far  as  Adeline  knew,  did  anyone  else  at  the  Abbey. 


134       A  MAN  FROM  THE  NORTH 

But  she  soon  became  reconciled  to  this  state  of 
things.  For  a  time  she  continued  to  repeat  her 
prayers;  then  the  habit  ceased. 

The  picture-gallery,  of  which  she  had  heard  a 
great  deal,  fascinated  her  at  once.  It  was  a  long 
but  not  very  lofty  apartment,  receiving  daylight 
from  a  hidden  source,  hung  with  the  finest  examples 
of  the  four  great  Italian  schools  which  flourished 
during  the  first  half  of  the  sixteenth  century:  the 
Venetian,  a  revel  of  colour;  the  Roman,  dignified 
and  even  sedate;  the  Florentine,  nobly  grandoise; 
and  the  school  of  Parma,  mysteriously  delicate. 
Opportunity  serving,  she  spent  much  of  her  time 
here,  talking  busily  to  the  madonnas,  the  Christs, 
the  martyred  saints,  the  monarchs,  the  knights,  the 
lovely  ladles,  and  all  the  naive  mediaeval  crowd, 
giving  each  of  them  a  part  In  her  own  infantile  ro- 
mances. When  she  grew  older,  she  copied  — 
who  shall  say  whether  consciously  or  unconsciously? 
—  the  attitudes  and  gestures  of  the  women;  and 
perhaps  In  time  there  passed  into  Adeline,  by  some 
Ineffable  channel,  at  least  a  portion  of  their  demure 
grace  and  contented  quietude.  There  were  pictures 
also  In  the  square  library,  examples  of  quite  modern 
English  and  French  work,  sagaciously  chosen  by  one 
whose  critical  faculty  had  descended  to  him  through 
four  generations  of  collectors;  but  Adeline  had  no 


A  MAN  FROM  THE  NORTH        135 

eyes  for  these.  The  books,  however,  gorgeous 
prisoners  In  glass,  were  her  good  friends,  though 
she  might  never  touch  them,  and  though  the  narrow, 
conventional  girl's  education  assiduously  bestowed 
upon  her  by  her  aunt  in  person,  stifled  rather  than 
fostered  curiosity  with  regard  to  their  contents. 

When  Adeline  was  about  nineteen,  her  guardian 
became  engaged  to  be  married  to  a  middle-aged 
farmer,  a  tenant  of  the  Abbey,  who  made  it  clear 
that  in  espousing  Aunt  Grace  he  was  not  eager  to 
espouse  Aunt  Grace's  protegee  also.  A  serious 
question  arose  as  to  her  future.  She  had  only  one 
other  relative  in  England,  Mr.  Aked,  and  she  pas- 
sively accepted  his  timely  suggestion  that  she  should 
go  to  London  and  keep  house  for  him. 


CHAPTER  XVI 

ON  the  Wednesday  evening  Richard  took 
tea  at  the  Crabtree,  so  that  he  might  go 
down  by  train  to  Parson's  Green  direct 
from  Charing  Cross.  The  coffee-room  was  almost 
empty  of  customers;  and  Miss  Roberts,  who  ap- 
peared to  be  in  attendance  there,  was  reading  in  the 
*'  cosy  corner,"  an  angle  of  the  room  furnished  with 
painted  mirrors  and  a  bark  bench  of  fictitious  rus- 
ticity. 

"  What  are  you  doing  up  here  ?  "  he  asked,  when 
she  brought  his  meal.  "  Are  n't  you  cashier  down- 
stairs any  longer?  " 

"  Oh,  yes,"  she  said,  "  I  should  just  think  I  was. 
But  the  girl  that  waits  in  this  room,  Miss  Pratt, 
has  her  half-holiday  on  Wednesdays,  and  I  come 
here,  and  the  governor  takes  my  place  downstairs. 
I  do  it  to  oblige  him.  He  's  a  gentleman,  he  is. 
That  polite!     I  have  my  half-holiday  on  Fridays." 

"  Well,  if  you  've  nothing  else  to  do,  what  do  you 
say  to  pouring  out  my  tea  for  me?  " 

136 


A  MAN  FROM  THE  NORTH        137 

"  Can't  you  pour  it  out  yourself?  Poor  thing!  " 
She  smiled  pityingly,  and  began  to  pour  out  the  tea. 

"  Sit  down,"  Richard  suggested. 

"No,  thank  you,"  she  said.  "There!  If  It 
is  n't  sweet  enough,  you  can  put  another  lump  in 
yourself;  "  and  she  disappeared  behind  the  screen 
which  hid  the  food-lift. 

Presently  he  summoned  her  to  make  out  his  check. 
He  was  debating  whether  to  tell  her  that  Mr.  Aked 
was  ill.  Perhaps  if  he  did  so  she  might  request  to 
be  informed  how  the  fact  concerned  herself.  He 
decided  to  say  nothing,  and  was  the  more  astonished 
when  she  began : 

"  Did  you  know  Mr.  Aked  was  very  ill?  " 

"Yes.     Who  told  you  ?  " 

"  Why,  I  live  near  him,  a  few  doors  away  — 
didn't  I  tell  you  once?  —  and  their  servant  told 
ours." 

"  Told  your  servant?  " 

"  Yes,"  said  Miss  Roberts,  reddening  a  little,  and 
with  an  inflection  which  meant,  "  I  suppose  you 
thought  my  family  would  n't  have  a  servant!  " 

"Oh!"     He   stopped   a   moment,    and   then   an 
idea  came  to  him.     "  It  must  have  been  you  who 
called  last  night  to  Inquire!"     He  wondered  why 
Adeline  had  been  so  curt  with  her. 
Were  you  there  then?" 


(( 


138        A  MAN  FROM  THE  NORTH 

"  Oh,  yes.     I  know  the  Akeds  pretty  well." 

"  The  doctor  says  he  '11  not  get  better.  What  do 
you  think?  " 

"  I  'm  afraid  it 's  a  bad  lookout." 

"Very  sad  for  poor  Miss  Aked,  isn't  it?"  she 
said,  and  something  in  the  tone  made  Richard  look 
up  at  her. 

"  Yes,"  he  agreed. 

"  Of  course  you  like  her?  " 

"  I  scarcely  know  her  —  It 's  the  old  man  I 
know,"  he  replied  guardedly. 

"  Well,  If  you  ask  me,  I  think  she  's  a  bit  stand- 
offish." 

"  Perhaps  that 's  only  her  manner." 

"  You  've  noticed  it  too,  have  you?  " 

"  Not  a  bit.     I  've  really  seen  very  little  of  her." 

"  Going  down  again  to-night?  " 

"  I  may  do." 

Nothing  had  passed  between  Adeline  and  himself 
as  to  his  calling  that  day,  but  when  he  got  to  Car- 
teret Street  she  evidently  accepted  his  presence  as  a 
matter  of  course,  and  he  felt  glad.  There  was  noth- 
ing in  her  demeanour  to  recall  the  scene  of  the 
previous  night.  He  did  not  stay  long.  Mr.  Aked's 
condition  was  unchanged.  Adeline  had  watched  by 
him  all  day,  while  the  nurse  slept,  and  now  she  con- 
fessed to  an  indisposition. 


A  MAN  FROM  THE  NORTH        139 

"  My  bones  ache,"  she  said,  with  an  attempt  to 
laugh,  "  and  I  feel  miserable,  though  under  the  cir- 
cumstances there  's  nothing  strange  in  that." 

He  feared  she  might  be  sickening  towards  in- 
fluenza, caught  from  her  uncle,  but  said  nothing, 
lest  he  should  alarm  her  without  cause.  The  next 
day,  however,  his  apprehension  was  justified.  On 
his  way  to  the  house  in  the  evening  he  met  the  doc- 
tor at  the  top  of  Carteret  Street  and  stopped  him. 

"  You  're  a  friend  of  Mr.  Aked's,  eh?  "  the  doc- 
tor said,  examining  Richard  through  his  gold- 
rimmed  spectacles.  "  Well,  go  and  do  what  you 
can.  Miss  Aked  is  down  with  the  influenza  now, 
but  I  don't  think  it  will  be  a  severe  attack  if  she 
takes  care.  The  old  fellow's  state  is  serious.  You 
see,  he  has  no  constitution,  though  perhaps  that 's 
scarcely  a  disadvantage  in  these  cases;  but  when  it 
comes  to  double  basic  pneumonia,  with  fever,  and 
cardiac  complications,  pulse  140,  respiration  40, 
temperature  103  to  104,  there  's  not  a  great  deal  of 
chance.  I  've  got  a  magnificent  nurse,  though,  and 
she  '11  have  her  hands  full.  We  ought  really  to 
send  for  another  one,  especially  as  Miss  Aked  wants 
looking  after  too.  .  .  .  Bless  you,"  he  went 
on,  in  answer  to  a  question  from  Richard,  "  I  can't 
say.  I  injected  strychnia  this  morning,  and  that  has 
given  relief,  but  he  may  die  during  the  night.     On 


I40        A  MAN  FROM  THE  NORTH 

the  other  hand  he  may  recover.  By  the  way,  they 
seem  to  have  no  relations,  except  a  cousin  of  Mr. 
Aked's  who  lives  In  the  north.  I  Ve  wired  to  her. 
Good  evening.  See  what  you  can  do.  I  'm  due  In 
my  surgery  In  two  minutes." 

Richard  Introduced  himself  to  the  nurse,  ex- 
plained that  he  had  seen  the  doctor,  and  asked  If  he 
could  render  assistance.  She  was  a  slender  girl  of 
about  twenty-three,  with  dark,  twinkling  eyes  and 
astonishingly  small  white  ears;  her  blue  uniform, 
made  of  the  same  print  as  a  servant's  morning-dress, 
fitted  without  a  crease,  and  her  Immense  apron  was 
snowy.  On  one  linen  cuff  was  a  stain;  she  noticed 
this  while  talking  to  Richard,  and  adroitly  reversed 
the  wristband  under  his  very  gaze. 

"I  suppose  you  know  the  Akeds  pretty  well?" 
she  questioned. 

Well,  pretty  well,"  he  answered. 
Do  you   know   any   friends   of   theirs,   women, 
who  happen  to  live  near?  " 

"  I  feel  fairly  sure  they  have  practically  no  ac- 
quaintances.    I  have  never  met  any  people  here." 

"  It  is  very  awkward,  now  that  Miss  Aked  Is  taken 

111." 

The  mention  of  Adeline  gave  him  an  opportunity 
to  make  more  particular  Inquiries  as  to  her  condi- 
tion. 


A  MAN  FROM  THE  NORTH        141 


(( 


There  Is  nothing  to  be  afraid  of,"  the  nurse 
said,  "  only  she  must  stay  In  bed  and  keep  quite 
quiet." 

"  I  fancied  last  night  she  looked  ill,"  he  said 
sagely. 

"  You  were  here  last  night?  " 

"  Yes,  and  the  night  before." 

"  Oh  !  I  was  n't  aware  — "  The  nurse  stopped 
a  moment.  "  Pardon  me,  if  I  am  Indiscreet,  but 
are  you  engaged  to  Miss  Aked?  " 

"  No,"  said  Richard  shortly,  uncertain  whether 
or  not  he  was  blushing.  The  nurse's  eyes  twin- 
kled, but  otherwise  her  impassive  gravity  suffered 
no  dimlnishment.  "  Not  at  all,"  he  added.  "  I 
am    merely    a    friend,    anxious    to    do    anything    I 


can." 


"  I  will  get  you  to  do  some  marketing  for  me," 
she  decided  suddenly.  "  The  maid  is  sitting  with 
Mr.  Aked  —  he  's  a  little  easier  for  the  moment  — • 
and  Miss  Aked,  I  think,  is  asleep.  If  I  give  you  a 
list,  can  you  discover  the  shops?  I  am  quite  Igno- 
rant of  this  neighbourhood." 

Richard  thought  he  could  discover  the  shops. 

"  In  the  meantime  I  will  have  a  bath.  I  have 
had  no  rest  worth  mentioning  for  twenty-four  hours, 
and  I  want  freshening  up.  Don't  come  back  for 
twenty  minutes,  or  there  will  be  no  one  to  let  you 


142        A  MAN  FROM  THE  NORTH 

in.  Stay,  I  will  give  you  the  latch-key."  It  was 
attached  to  her  chatelaine. 

Equipped  with  written  orders  and  a  sovereign, 
he  went  out.  Though  he  was  away  barely  a  quar- 
ter of  an  hour,  she  was  dressed  and  downstairs  again 
when  he  came  In,  her  face  as  radiant  as  if  she  had 
just  risen.  She  counted  the  change,  and  checked 
the  different  purchases  with  the  list.  Richard  had 
made  no  mistakes. 

"  Thank  you,"  she  said  very  formally.  He  had 
expected  a  little  praise. 

"  Is  there  anything  else  I  can  do?  "  he  asked,  de- 
termined not  to  weary  in  good  works,  however 
coldly  his  efforts  were  received. 

"  I  think  you  might  sit  with  Mr.  Aked  for  a 
while,"  she  said;  "I  must  positively  give  some  at- 
tention to  Miss  Aked,  and  half  an  hour's  rest  would 
not  harm  me.  See,  there  are  some  slippers;  would 
you  mind  taking  off  your  boots  and  putting  those  on 
instead?  Thank  you.  You  may  talk  to  Mr.  Aked 
if  he  talks  to  you,  and  let  him  hold  your  hand  — 
he  '11  probably  want  to.  Let  him  have  just  a  sip  of 
the  brandy  and  milk  I  will  give  you,  whenever  he 
asks  for  it.  Don't  mind  if  he  grumbles  at  every- 
thing you  do.  Try  to  soothe  him.  Remember  he 
is  very  seriously  ill.     Shall  I  take  you  upstairs?" 


A  MAN  FROM  THE  NORTH        143 

She  looked  at  Richard  and  then  at  the  door;  and 
Richard,  hesitating  for  a  fraction  of  a  second, 
stepped  past  her  to  open  it.  He  managed  it  awk- 
wardly because  he  had  never  done  such  a  thing  for 
a  lady  in  his  life,  nor  could  he  quite  understand  what 
mysterious  prompting  had  led  him  to  be  so  punctil- 
ious now.  The  nurse  bowed  acknowledgment  and 
preceded  him  to  the  sick-room.  He  felt  as  a  stu- 
dent feels  just  before  the  examination  papers  are 
handed  round. 

A  smell  of  linseed  escaped  from  the  bedroom  as 
the  nurse  pushed  open  the  door. 

"  Stay  outside  a  moment,"  she  said  to  Richard. 
He  could  see  the  grate,  on  which  a  kettle  was  singing 
over  a  small  fire.  In  front  of  the  fire  was  a  board, 
with  a  large  bowl  and  spoon,  and  some  pieces  of 
linen.  Then  he  was  conscious  of  nothing  but  a  loud 
sound  of  rapid,  painful  breathing,  accompanied  by 
moans  and  a  strange  rattling  which  came  to  his  ears 
with  perturbing  distinctness.  He  knew  nothing  of 
sickness  beyond  what  people  had  told  him,  and  these 
phenomena  inspired  him  with  physical  dread.  He 
wished  to  run  away. 

"  A  friend  of  yours  Is  coming  to  sit  with  you,  Mr. 
Aked  —  you  know  Mr.  Larch,"  he  heard  the  nurse 
say;  she  was  evidently  busy  about  the  bed.     "You 


144       A  MAN  FROM  THE  NORTH 

can  go  now,  Lottie,"  she  went  on  to  the  servant. 
"  Wash  up  the  things  I  have  put  in  the  sink,  and 
then  off  to  bed." 

Richard  waited  with  painful  expectancy  for  the 
voice  of  Mr.  Aked. 

*'  Larch  —  did  you  say  —  why  —  did  n't  he  come 
—  before?"  The  tones  were  less  unnatural  than 
he  had  anticipated,  but  it  seemed  that  only  by  the 
exercise  of  a  desperate  ingenuity  could  the  speaker 
interject  the  fragments  of  a  sentence  here  and  there 
between  his  hurrying  gasps. 

Then  the  servant  went  downstairs. 

"  Come  in,  Mr.  Larch,"  the  nurse  called  pleas- 
antly. 

The  patient,  supported  by  pillows,  was  sitting  up- 
right in  bed,  and  as  Richard  entered  he  looked  to- 
wards the  door  with  the  expression  of  an  unarmed 
man  on  the  watch  for  an  assassin.  His  face  was 
drawn  and  duskily  pale,  but  on  each  cheek  burned  a 
red  flush;  at  every  cruel  inspiration  the  nostrils  di- 
lated widely,  and  the  shoulders  were  raised  in  a 
frenzied  effort  to  fill  the  embarrassed  lungs. 

"  Well,  Mr.  Aked,"  Richard  greeted  him,  "  here 
I  am,  you  see." 

He  made  no  reply  beyond  a  weak  nod,  and  signed 
to  the  nurse  for  the  feeding-cup  of  brandy  and 
milk,  which  she  held  to  his  mouth.     Richard  was 


A  MAN  FROM  THE  NORTH        145 

afraid  he  might  not  be  able  to  stay  in  the  room,  and 
marvelled  that  the  nurse  could  be  unmoved  and 
cheerful  in  the  midst  of  this  piteous  altercation  with 
death.  Was  she  blind  to  the  terror  in  the  man's 
eyes? 

"  You  had  better  sit  here,  Mr.  Larch,"  she  said 
quietly,  pointing  to  a  chair  by  the  bedside.  "  Here 
is  the  drink;  hold  the  cup  —  so.  Ring  this  bell  if 
you  want  me  for  anything."  Then  she  noiselessly 
disappeared. 

No  sooner  had  he  sat  down  than  Mr.  Aked  seized 
his  shoulder  for  support,  and  each  movement  of  the 
struggling  frame  communicated  itself  to  Richard's 
body.  Richard  suddenly  conceived  a  boundless 
respect  for  the  nurse,  who  had  watched  whole  nights 
by  this  tortured  organism  on  the  bed.  Somehow  ex- 
istence began  to  assume  for  him  a  new  and  larger 
aspect;  he  felt  that  till  that  moment  he  had  been  go- 
ing through  the  world  with  his  eyes  closed;  life  was 
sublimer,  more  terrible,  than  he  had  thought.  He 
abased  himself  before  all  doctors  and  nurses  and 
soldiers  in  battle;  they  alone  tasted  the  true  saviour 
of  life. 

Art  was  a  very  little  thing. 

Presently  Mr.  Aked  breathed  with  slightly  less 
exertion,  and  he  appeared  to  doze  for  a  few  mo- 
ments now  and  then,  though  Richard  could  scarcely 


146        A  MAN  FROM  THE  NORTH 

believe  that  any  semblance  of  sleep  was  possible  to  a 
man  in  his  condition. 

"  Adeline?  "  he  questioned  once. 

"  She  's  getting  on  fine,"  Richard  said  soothingly. 
"  Would  you  like  a  sip?  " 

He  put  his  grey  lips  clumsily  round  the  lip  of  the 
cup,  drank,  and  then  pushed  the  vessel  away  with  a 
gesture  of  irritation. 

The  windows  were  open,  but  the  air  was  per- 
fectly still,  and  the  gas  burnt  without  a  tremor  be- 
tween the  windows  and  the  door. 

"I'm  stifled,"  the  patient  gasped.     "Are  they 

—  doing  —  all  they  can  —  for  me  ?  " —  Richard 
tried  to  reassure  him. 

"It's  all  over  —  with  me  —  Larch  —  I  can't  — 
keep  It  up  long  —  I  'm  going  —  going  —  they  '11 
have  to  try  —  something  else." 

His  lustrous  eyes  were  fastened  on  Richard  with 
an  appealing  gaze.     Richard  turned  away. 

"  I  'm  frightened — I  thought  I  shouldn't  be  — 
but  I  am.     Doctor  suggested  parson  —  it 's  not  that 

—  I  said  no    .     .     .     Do  you  think  —  I'm  dying?" 
"  Not  a  bit,"  said  Richard. 

"That's  a  lie  — I'm  off  .  .  .  It 's  a  big 
thing, —  death  —  everyone  's  afraid  —  of  it  —  at 
last  .  .  .  Instinct !  .  .  .  Shows  there 's 
something  —  awful  behind  It." 


A  MAN  FROM  THE  NORTH        147 

If  Richard  had  been  murdering  the  man,  he 
could  not  have  had  a  sharper  sense  of  guilt  than  at 
that  moment  oppressed  him. 

Mr.  Aked  continued  to  talk,  but  with  a  growing 
incoherence  which  gradually  passed  into  delirium. 
Richard  looked  at  his  watch.  Only  thirty  minutes 
had  slipped  by,  and  yet  he  felt  as  If  his  shoulder  had 
suffered  the  clutch  of  that  hot  hand  since  before  the 
beginning  of  time  I  Again  he  experienced  the  dis- 
concerting sensation  of  emotional  horizons  suddenly 
widened. 

People  were  walking  down  the  street;  they  talked 
and  laughed.  How  incongruously  mirthful  and 
careless  their  voices  sounded!  Perhaps  they  had 
never  watched  by  a  sick-bed,  never  listened  to  the 
agonised  breathing  of  a  pneumonia  patient.  That 
incessant  frantic  Intake  of  air!  It  exasperated  him. 
If  it  did  not  stop  soon,  he  should  go  mad.  He 
stared  at  the  gas-flame,  and  the  gas-flame  grew 
larger,  larger,  till  he  could  see  nothing  else.  .  .  . 
Then,  after  a  long  while,  surely  the  breathing  was 
more  dlflScult!  There  was  a  reverberating  turmoil 
in  the  man's  chest  which  shook  the  bed.  Could 
Richard  have  been  asleep,  or  what?  He  started  up; 
but  Mr.  Aked  clung  desperately  to  him,  raising  his 
shoulders  higher  and  higher  in  the  struggle  to  Inhale, 
and  leaning  forward  till  he  was  bent  almost  double. 


148        A  MAN  FROM  THE  NORTH 

Richard  hesitated,  and  then  struck  the  bell.  It 
seemed  as  If  the  nurse  would  never  come. 

The  door  opened  softly. 

"  I  'm  afraid  he  Is  much  worse,"  Richard  said  to 
the  nurse,  striving  to  cover  his  agitation.  She 
looked  at  Mr.  Aked. 

"  Perhaps  you  had  better  fetch  the  doctor." 

When  he  returned,  Mr.  Aked  was  lying  back  un- 
conscious. 

"  Of  course  the  doctor  can  do  nothing  now,"  said 
the  nurse,  calmly  answering  the  question  in  his  eyes. 
"  He  '11  never  speak  any  more." 

"But  Miss  Aked?" 

*'  It  can't  be  helped.  I  shall  say  nothing  to  her 
till  morning." 

"  Then  she  won't  see  him?  " 

"  Certainly  not.  It  would  be  madness  for  her  to 
leave  her  bed." 

The  doctor  arrived,  and  the  three  talked  quietly 
together  about  the  alarming  prevalence  of  influenza 
at  that  time  of  the  year,  and  the  fatal  results  of  care- 
lessness. 

"  I  tell  you  honestly,"  the  doctor  said,  "  I  'm  so 
overworked  that  I  should  be  quite  satisfied  to  step 
into  my  coffin  and  not  wake  again.  I  've  had  three 
3  A.  M.  midwifery  cases  this  week  —  forceps,  chloro- 


A  MAN  FROM  THE  NORTH        149 

form,  and  the  whole  bag  of  tricks  —  on  the  top  of 
all  this  influenza,  and  I  'm  about  sick  of  it.  That 's 
the  worst  of  our  trade;  it  comes  in  lumps.  What  do 
you  say,  nurse?  " 


CHAPTER  XVII 

THE  nurse  suggested  that  Richard  should  re- 
main at  Carteret  Street  for  the  rest  of  the 
night,  using  the  sofa  In  the  sitting-room. 
Contrary  to  his  expectation,  he  slept  well  and  dream- 
lessly  for  several  hours,  and  woke  up  refreshed  and 
energetic.  The  summer  sun  was  dispersing  a  light 
mist.  One  thought  occupied  his  mind, —  Adeline's 
Isolation  and  need  of  succour.  Mentally  he  envel- 
oped her  with  tender  solicitude;  and  the  prospect  of 
giving  her  instant  aid,  and  so  earning  her  gratitude, 
contributed  to  a  mood  of  vigorous  cheerfulness  to 
which  his  sorrow  for  Mr.  Aked's  death  formed  but 
a  vague  and  distant  background. 

No  one  seemed  to  be  stirring.  He  washed  luxu- 
riously in  the  little  scullery,  and  then,  silently  un- 
bolting the  front  door,  went  out  for  a  walk.  It  was 
just  six  o'clock,  and  above  the  weazen  trees  which 
line  either  side  of  Carteret  Street  the  sparrows  were 
noisily  hilarious.  As  he  strode  along  In  the  fresh, 
sunny  air,  his  fancy  pictured  scene  after  scene  be- 
tween himself  and  Adeline  in  which  he  rendered  a 
man's  help   and  she   offered   a   woman's   gratitude. 

ISO 


A  MAN  FROM  THE  NORTH        151 

He  determined  to  take  upon  himself  all  the  arrange- 
ments for  the  funeral,  and  looked  forward  pleasur- 
ably  to  activities  from  which  under  different  circum- 
stances he  would  have  shrunk  with  dismay.  He 
thought  of  Adeline's  aunt  or  cousin,  distant  in  the 
north,  and  wondered  whether  she  or  any  other  rel- 
atives, if  such  existed,  would  present  themselves;  he 
hoped  that  Adeline  might  be  forced  to  rely  solely 
on  him.  A  milkboy  who  passed  with  his  rattling 
cans  observed  Richard  talking  rapidly  to  no  visible 
person,  and  turne*^'  round  to  stare. 

When  he  got  back  to  the  house,  he  noticed  that 
the  blinds  had  been  drawn  in  the  sitting-room.  Lot- 
tie, the  chubby-armed  servant,  was  cleaning  the  step ; 
her  eyes  were  red  with  crying. 

"  Is  nurse  up  yet?  "  he  asked  her. 

"  Yes,  sir,  she  's  in  the  kitchen,"  the  girl  whim- 
pered. 

He  sprang  over  the  wet  step  into  the  passage. 
As  his  glance  fell  on  the  stairs  leading  up  to  the 
room  where  lay  the  body  of  Mr.  Aked,  separated 
from  the  unconscious  Adeline  only  by  a  gimcrack 
wall  of  lath  and  plaster,  an  uncomfortable  feeling  of 
awe  took  hold  of  him.  Death  was  very  incurable, 
and  he  had  been  assisting  at  a  tragedy.  How  un- 
real and  distorted  seemed  the  events  of  a  few  hours 
before!     He  had  a  curious  sense  of  partnership  in 


152        A  MAN  FROM  THE  NORTH 

shame,  as  if  he  and  the  nurse  and  the  doctor  had 
last  night  done  Adeline  an  injury  and  were  conspir- 
ing to  hide  their  sin.  What  would  she  say  when 
she  knew  that  her  uncle  was  dead?  What  would  be 
her  plans?  It  occurred  to  him  now  that  she  would 
of  course  act  quite  independently  of  himself;  it  was 
ridiculous  to  suppose  that  he,  comparatively  a 
stranger,  could  stand  to  her  in  the  place  of  kith  and 
kin ;  he  had  been  dreaming.  He  was  miserably  dis- 
heartened. 

He  made  his  way  to  the  kitchen,  and,  pushing  the 
door  open  quietly,  found  the  nurse  engr.ged  in  cook- 
ing a  meal. 

"  May  I  come  in,  nurse?  " 

"  Yes,  Mr.  Larch." 

"  You  seem  to  have  taken  charge  of  the  house," 
he  said,  admiring  her  quick,  neat  movements;  she 
was  as  much  at  home  as  if  the  kitchen  had  been  her 
own. 

"  We  often  find  it  necessary,"  she  smiled. 
"  Nurses  have  to  be  ready  for  most  things.  Do 
you  prefer  tea  or  coffee  for  breakfast?  " 

"  Surely  you  are  n't  getting  breakfast  for  me?  I 
could  have  had  something  in  town." 

"  Surely  I  am,"  she  said.  "  If  you  are  n't  fas- 
tidious, I  '11  make  tea.  Miss  Aked  has  had  a  mod- 
erately good  night     .     .     .     I  've  told  her     .     .     . 


A  MAN  FROM  THE  NORTH        153 

She  took  it  very  well,  said  she  expected  it.  Of 
course  there  's  a  lot  to  be  done,  but  I  can't  bother 
her  yet.  We  ought  to  have  a  telegram  from  Mrs. 
Hopkins,  her  aunt,  this  morning." 

"  I  wish  you  would  give  Miss  Aked  a  message 
from  me,"  Richard  broke  in.  "  Tell  her  I  shall  be 
very  glad  to  see  after  things  —  the  funeral,  you 
know,  and  so  on  —  if  she  cares.  I  can  easily  ar- 
range to  take  a  holiday  from  the  office." 

"  I  am  sure  that  would  relieve  her  from  a  lot  of 
anxiety,"  the  nurse  said  appreciatively.  To  hide  a 
certain  confusion  Richard  suggested  that  he  should 
be  allowed  to  lay  the  cloth  in  the  sitting-room,  and 
she  told  him  he  would  find  it  in  a  drawer  in  the 
sideboard.  He  wandered  off,  speculating  upon 
Adeline's  probable  answer  to  his  proposal.  Soon  he 
heard  the  rattling  of  cups  and  saucers,  and  the 
nurse's  footstep  on  the  stair.  He  laid  the  cloth, 
putting  the  cruet  in  the  middle  and  the  salt-cellars 
at  opposite  corners,  and  then  sat  down  in  front  of 
the  case  of  French  books  to  scan  their  titles,  but  he 
saw  nothing  save  a  blur  of  yellow.  After  a  long 
time  the  nurse  came  down  again. 

"  Miss  Aked  says  she  cannot  thank  you  enough. 
She  will  leave  everything  to  you, —  everything. 
She  is  very  much  obliged  indeed.  She  does  n't  think 
Mrs,  Hopkins  will  be  able  to  travel,  because  of  her 


154       A  MAN  FROM  THE  NORTH 

rheumatism,  and  there  Is  no  one  else.  Here  Is  the 
key  of  Mr.  Aked's  desk,  and  some  other  keys  — 
there  should  be  about  £20  in  gold  in  the  cash  box, 
and  perhaps  some  notes." 

He  took  the  keys,  feeling  profoundly  happy. 

"  I  shall  just  go  up  to  the  office  first,"  he  decided, 
"  and  arrange  to  get  off,  and  then  come  down  here 
again.  I  suppose  you  will  stay  on  till  Miss  Aked 
Is  better?" 

"  Oh,  of  course." 

"  She  win  be  In  bed  several  days  yet?  " 

"  Probably.  She  might  be  able  to  sit  up  an  hour 
or  two  the  day  after  to-morrow  —  in  her  own  room." 

"  It  wouldn't  do  for  me  to  see  her?" 

"  I  think  not.  She  is  very  weak.  No,  you  must 
act  on  your  own  responsibility." 

He  and  the  nurse  had  breakfast  together,  talking 
with  the  freedom  of  old  friends.  He  told  her  all 
he  knew  of  the  Akeds,  not  forgetting  to  mention 
that  Mr.  Aked  and  himself  were  to  have  collaborated 
In  a  book.  When  Richard  let  this  out,  she  showed 
none  of  those  signs  of  timid  reverence  which  the 
laity  are  wont  to  exhibit  in  the  presence  of  literary 
people. 

"  Indeed  I  "  she  said  politely,  and  then  after  a  lit- 
tle  pause :   *'  I   actually  write  verses  myself  some- 


times." 


A  MAN  FROM  THE  NORTH        155 

"  You  do?     And  are  they  published?  " 

"  Oh,  yes,  but  perhaps  not  on  their  merits.  You 
see,  my  father  has  Influence  — " 

"  A  journahst.  Is  he,  perhaps?  " 

She  laughed  at  the  Idea,  and  mentioned  the  name 
of  a  well-known  novelist. 

"And  you  prefer  nursing  to  writing!"  Richard 
ejaculated  when  he  had  recovered  from  the  announce- 
ment. 

"  To  anything  in  the  world.  That  is  why  I  am 
a  nurse.  Why  should  I  depend  on  my  father,  or 
my  father's  reputation?" 

"  I  admire  you  for  not  doing  so,"  Richard  replied. 
Hitherto  he  had  only  read  about  such  women,  and 
had  questioned  If  they  really  existed.  He  grew 
humble  before  her,  recognising  a  stronger  spirit. 
Yet  her  self-reliance  somehow  chafed  him,  and  he 
directed  his  thoughts  to  Adeline's  feminine  trustful- 
ness with  a  slight  sense  of  relief. 

The  funeral  took  place  on  Sunday.  Richard 
found  the  formalities  to  be  fewer  and  simpler  than 
he  had  expected,  and  no  difficulties  arose  of  any 
kind.  Mrs.  Hopkins,  as  Adeline  had  foreseen,  was 
unable  to  come,  but  she  sent  a  long  letter  full  of  ad- 
vice, and  offering  her  niece  a  temporary  home. 
Adeline  had  not  yet  been  allowed  to  leave  her  bed. 


156        A  MAN  FROM  THE  NORTH 

but  on  the  Sunday  morning  the  nurse  had  said  that 
she  might  sit  up  for  an  hour  or  two  in  the  after- 
noon, and  would  like  to  see  Richard  then. 

He  returned  to  Carteret  Street  on  foot  when  the 
funeral  was  over. 

"  You  are  glad  it  is  all  finished?  "  the  nurse  said. 

"  Yes,"  he  answered  a  little  wearily.  His  mind 
had  dwelt  on  Mr.  Aked  that  day,  and  the  lonely 
futility  of  the  man's  life  had  touched  him  with  chill, 
depressing  effect.  Moreover,  now  it  came  to  the 
point,  he  rather  dreaded  than  desired  that  first  inter- 
view with  Adeline  after  her  uncle's  death.  He 
feared  that  despite  any  service  he  had  rendered, 
they  were  not  much  more  than  acquaintances.  He 
morbidly  conjectured  what  she  would  say  to  him  and 
how  he  would  reply.  But  he  was  glad  when  the  > 
nurse  left  him  alone  at  the  door  of  Adeline's  room.  ( 
He  knocked  rather  louder  than  he  had  intended,  and 
after  hesitating  a  second  walked  in.  Adeline  was 
seated  in  an  armchair  near  the  window,  fully  dressed 
in  black,  with  a  shawl  over  her  shoulders.  Her 
back  was  towards  him,  but  he  could  see  that  she  was 
writing  a  letter  on  her  knee.  She  looked  round  sud- 
denly as  the  door  opened,  and  gave  a  little  "  Oh !  " 
at  the  same  time  lifting  her  hands.  Her  face  was 
pale,  her  hair  flat,  and  her  eyes  large  and  glittering. 
He  went  up  to  her. 


A  MAN  FROM  THE  NORTH        157 

"Mr.  Larch!  "  She  held  his  hand  in  her  thin 
white  one  with  a  soft,  weak  pressure,  silently  gaz- 
ing at  him  while  tears  gathered  in  her  upturned  eyes. 
Richard  trembled  in  every  part  of  his  body;  he  could 
not  speak,  and  wondered  what  was  the  matter  with 
him. 

"  Mr.  Larch,  you  have  been  very  kind.  I  shall 
never  be  able  to  thank  you." 

"  I  hope  you  won't  bother  about  any  thanks,"  he 
said.  "  Are  you  better?"  And  yet  he  wished  her 
to  say  more. 

With  apparent  reluctance  she  loosed  his  hand, 
and  he  sat  down  near  her. 

"  What  should  I  have  done  without  you !  .  .  . 
Tell  me  about  to-day.  You  can't  think  how  relieved 
I  am  now  that  it  is  over  —  the  funeral,  I  mean." 

He  said  there  was  nothing  to  tell. 

"  Were  there  many  other  funerals?  " 

"  Yes,  a  lot." 

He  answered  her  questions  one  after  another;  she 
seemed  to  be  interested  in  the  least  detail,  but 
neither  of  them  mentioned  the  dead  man.  Her 
eyes  seldom  left  him.  When  he  suggested  that  she 
must  dismiss  him  as  soon  as  she  felt  tired,  she 
laughed,  and  replied  that  she  was  not  likely  to  be 
tired  for  a  very  long  while,  and  that  he  must  have 
tea  with  her  and  nurse. 


158        A  MAN  FROM  THE  NORTH 

"  I  was  writing  to  my  two  uncles  in  San  Francisco 
when  you  came  In,"  she  said.  "  They  will  be  ter- 
ribly upset  about  me  at  first,  poor  fellows,  but  I  have 
told  them  how  kind  you  have  been,  and  Uncle  Mark 
always  used  to  say  I  had  plenty  of  sense,  so  that 
ought  to  ease  their  minds."     She  smiled. 

"  Of  course  you  have  made  no  definite  plans  yet?  " 
he  asked. 

"  No,  I  sha'n't  settle  anything  at  present.  I  want 
to  consult  you  about  several  things,  but  some  other 
time,  when  I  am  better.  I  shall  have  enough  money, 
I  think  —  that  Is  one  solid  comfort.  My  aunt 
Grace  —  Mrs.  Hopkins  —  has  asked  me  to  go  and 
stay  with  her.  Somehow  I  don't  want  to  go  — 
you  '11  think  It  queer  of  me,  I  daresay,  but  I  would 
really  prefer  to  stop  In  London." 

He  noticed  that  she  said  nothing  as  to  joining  her 
uncles  in  San  Francisco. 

"  I  fancy  I  shall  like  London,"  she  went  on,  "  when 
I  know  it." 

"  You  are  n't  thinking,  then,  of  going  to  San  Fran- 
cisco? " 

He  waited  apprehensively  for  her  answer.  She 
hesitated.  "  It  Is  so  far—  I  don't  quite  know  how 
my  uncles  are  situated  — " 

Evidently,  for  some  reason,  she  had  no  desire  to 
leave  London  Immediately.     He  was  very  content, 


A  MAN  FROM  THE  NORTH        159 

having  feared  that  she  might  pass  at  once  away  from 
him. 

They  had  tea  on  a  little  round  chess-table.  The 
cramped  space  and  the  consequent  necessity  of  putting 
spare  plates  of  cake  on  the  bed  caused  some  amuse- 
ment, but  in  the  presence  of  the  strong,  brusque  nurse 
Adeline  seemed  to  withdraw  within  herself,  and  the 
conversation,  such  as  it  was,  depended  on  the  other 
two. 

"  I  have  been  telling  Miss  Aked,"  the  nurse  said 
after  tea  was  over,  "  that  she  must  go  to  the  seaside 
for  a  week  or  two.  It  will  do  her  an  immense  deal 
of  good.  What  she  needs  most  of  all  is  change.  I 
suggested  Littlehampton;  It  Is  rather  a  quiet  spot, 
not  too  quiet;  there  is  nice  river  scenery,  and  a  quaint 
old  port,  and  quantities  of  lovely  rustic  villages  in 
the  neighbourhood." 

"  It  would  certainly  be  a  good  thing,"  Richard 
agreed;  but  Adeline  said,  rather  petulantly,  that  she 
did  not  wish  to  travel,  and  the  project  was  not  dis- 
cussed further. 

He  left  soon  afterwards.  The  walk  home  seemed 
surprisingly  short,  and  when  he  got  to  Raphael 
Street  he  could  remember  nothing  of  the  thorough- 
fares through  which  he  had  passed.  Vague,  deli- 
cious fancies  flitted  through  his  head,  like  fine  lines 
half  recalled  from  a  great  poem.     In  his  room  there 


i6o        A  MAN  FROM  THE  NORTH 

was  a  smell  from  the  lamp,  and  the  windows  were 
shut  tight. 

"  Poor  old  landlady,"  he  murmured  benignantly, 
"  when  will  she  learn  to  leave  the  windows  open  and 
not  to  turn  down  the  lamp?" 

Having  unfastened  one  of  the  windows,  he  ex- 
tinguished the  lamp  and  went  out  on  to  the  little 
balcony.  It  was  a  warm  evening,  with  a  cloudy  sky 
and  a  gentle,  tepid  breeze.  The  noise  of  omnibuses 
and  cabs  came  even  and  regular  from  Brompton 
Road,  and  occasionally  a  hansom  passed  up  Raphael 
Street.  He  stood  leaning  on  the  front  of  the  bal- 
cony till  the  air  of  traffic  had  declined  to  an  in- 
frequent rumble,  his  thoughts  a  smiling,  whirling 
medley  impossible  to  analyze  or  describe.  At  last 
he  came  in,  and,  leaving  the  window  ajar,  undressed 
slowly  without  a  light,  and  lay  down.  He  had  no 
desire  to  sleep,  nor  did  he  attempt  to  do  so ;  not  for 
a  ransom  would  he  have  parted  with  the  fine,  full 
consciousness  of  life  which  thrilled  through  every 
portion  of  his  being.  The  brief  summer  night  came 
to  an  end;  and  just  as  the  sun  was  rising  he  dozed  a 
little,  and  then  got  up  without  a  trace  of  fatigue. 
He  went  to  the  balcony  again,  and  drank  in  all  the 
sweet  invigorating  freshness  of  the  morning.  The 
sunlit  streets  were  enveloped  in  an  enchanted  silence. 


CHAPTER  XVIII 

NEARLY  three  weeks  later  came  the  follow- 
ing letter  from  Adeline.  In  the  mean- 
while she  had  had  a  rather  serious  relapse, 
and  he  had  seen  her  only  once  or  twice  for  a  few 
minutes. 

My  dear  Mr.  Larch, —  This  time  I  am  quite  sure  I 
am  well  again.  Nurse  is  obliged  to  leave  to-day,  as  she  is 
wanted  at  a  hospital,  and  she  has  persuaded  me  to  go  to 
Littlehampton  at  once,  and  given  me  the  address  of  some 
rooms.  I  shall  leave  Victoria  to-morrow  (Wednesday)  by 
the  i.io  train;  Lottie  will  go  with  me,  and  the  house  will 
be  locked  up.  Good-bye  for  the  present,  if  I  don't  see  you. 
We  shall  not  stay  more  than  a  week  or  ten  days.  I  will 
write  to  you  from  Littlehampton. 

Ever  yours  most  gratefully, 

A.  A. 

P.  S.     I  was  expecting  you  down  to-night. 

"  '  If  I  don't  see  you  '!  "  he  repeated  to  himself, 
smiling,  and  examining  Adeline's  caligraphy,  which 
he  had  not  seen  before.  It  was  a  bold  but  not  dis- 
tinguished hand.     He  read  the  note  several  times, 

*  i6i 


1 62        A  MAN  FROM  THE  NORTH 

then  folded  it  carefully  and  put  it  in  his  pocket- 
book. 

By  reason  of  an  unexpected  delay  at  the  office  he 
almost  missed  her  at  Victoria.  The  train  was  due 
out  at  least  a  minute  before  he  rushed  into  the  sta- 
tion; fortunately  trains  are  not  invariably  prompt. 
Adeline  was  leaning  from  a  carriage  window  to  hand 
a  penny  to  a  newspaper  boy;  the  boy  dropped  the 
penny,  and  she  laughed.  She  wore  a  black  hat  with 
a  veil.  Her  cheeks  were  a  little  fuller,  and  her  eyes 
less  unnaturally  brilliant,  at  any  rate  under  the  veil; 
and  Richard  thought  that  he  had  never  seen  her 
look  so  pretty. 

"  There  it  is,  silly  boy,  there!  "  she  was  saying  as 
he  came  up. 

"  I  thought  I  'd  just  see  if  you  were  all  right,"  he 
panted.  "  I  should  have  been  here  earlier,  only  I 
was  detained." 

"  How  kind  of  you  to  take  so  much  trouble !  "  she 
said,  taking  his  hand,  and  fixing  her  eyes  intently  on 
his.     The  guard  came  along  to  fasten  the  doors. 

"Luggage  all  in?"  Richard  asked. 

"  Yes,  thanks.  Lottie  saw  to  it  while  I  got  the 
tickets.  I  find  she  is  quite  an  experienced  traveller." 
At  which  Lottie,  effaced  in  a  corner,  blushed. 

*'  Well,  I  hope  you  will  enjoy  yourself."     The 


A  MAN  FROM  THE  NORTH        163 

whistle  sounded,  and  the  train  jerked  forward 
Adeline  began  to  wave  a  good-bye. 

"  I  see  there  's  a  Sunday  league  trip  to  Little- 
hampton  on  Sunday,"  he  said,  walking  along  with 
the  train. 

"Oh!     Do  come  down." 

"You'd  like  me  to?" 

"  Very  much." 

"  I  will,  then.     Send  me  the  address." 

She  gave  a  succession  of  little  nods,  as  the  train 
carried  her  away. 


CHAPTER  XIX 

RICHARD'S  eye  travelled  expectantly  over 
the  tanned  crowd  of  men  in  flannels  and 
gaily  attired  girls  which  lined  the  platform 
of  Littlehampton  station,  but  Adeline  was  not  to  be 
seen.  He  felt  somewhat  disappointed,  and  then  de- 
cided that  he  liked  her  the  better  for  not  having 
come  to  meet  him.  "  Besides,"  he  thought,  "  the 
train  being  a  special  is  not  in  the  time-table,  and  she 
would  not  know  when  it  was  due." 

Her  lodging  was  in  a  long,  monotonous  terrace 
which  ran  at  right  angles  to  the  seashore,  turning 
its  back  upon  the  river.  Noon  was  at  hand,  and  the 
fierce  rays  of  the  unclouded  sun  were  untempered 
by  any  breeze.  The  street  lay  hushed,  for  every- 
one was  either  at  church  or  on  the  sands.  In  re- 
sponse to  his  inquiry,  the  landlady  said  that  Miss 
Aked  was  out,  and  had  left  a  message  that  if  a 
gentleman  called,  he  was  to  follow  her  to  the  jetty. 
Obeying  the  directions  given  to  him,  Richard  soon 
found  himself  by  the  banks  of  the  swift  Arun,  with 
the  jetty  some  distance  in  front,  and  beyond  that  the 

164 


A  MAN  FROM  THE  NORTH        165 

sea,  which  shimmered  blindly  In  the  heat.  Throngs 
of  respectably  dressed  people  wandered  up  and  down, 
and  a  low,  languid  murmur  of  conversation  floated 
out  as  It  were  from  the  cavities  of  a  thousand 
parasols.  Perspiring  children  whose  hands  were 
chafed  by  gloves  full  of  creases  ran  to  and  fro  among 
the  groups,  shouting  noisily,  and  heedless  of  the 
frequent  injunction  to  remember  what  day  It  was. 
Here  and  there  nurses  pushing  perambulators  made 
cool  spots  of  whiteness  in  the  confusion  of  colour. 
On  the  river  boats  and  small  yachts  were  continu- 
ally sweeping  towards  the  sea  on  the  ebbing  tide; 
now  and  then  a  crew  of  boys  would  attempt  to  pull 
a  skiff  against  the  rapid  current,  persevere  for  a  few 
strokes,  and  then,  amid  scoffs  from  the  bank,  ignomin- 
iously  allow  themselves  to  be  whirled  past  the  jetty 
with  the  other  craft. 

Richard  had  never  seen  a  southern  watering- 
place  before,  and  he  had  fondly  expected  something 
different  from  Llandudno,  Rhyl,  or  Blackpool, 
something  less  stolid  and  more  continental.  Little- 
hampton  fell  short  of  his  anticipations.  It  was  un- 
picturesque  as  a  manufacturing  town,  and  its  sum- 
mer visitors  were  an  Infestlve,  lower-middle  class 
folk,  garishly  clothed,  and  unlearned  in  the  fine  art 
of  enjoyment.  The  pure  accent  of  London  sounded 
on  every  side  from  the  lips  of  clerks  and  shop-girls 


1 66        A  MAN  FROM  THE  NORTH 

and  their  kin.  Richard  forgot  that  he  was  himself 
a  clerk,  looking  not  out  of  place  in  that  scene. 

Presently  he  espied  a  woman  who  seemed  to  be- 
long to  another  sphere.  She  was  leaning  over  the 
parapet  of  the  jetty,  and  though  a  black  and  white 
sunshade  entirely  hid  her  head  and  shoulders,  the 
simple,  perfectly  hung  black  skirt,  the  neatly  shod 
foot,  the  small,  smoothly  gloved  hand  with  thin  gold 
circlet  at  wrist,  sufficed  to  convince  him  that  here, 
by  some  strange  chance,  was  one  of  those  ex- 
quisite creatures  who  on  Saturday  afternoons  drove 
past  the  end  of  Raphael  Street  on  their  way  to  Hur- 
lingham  or  Barnes.  He  wondered  what  she  did 
there,  and  tried  to  determine  the  subtleties  of  de- 
meanour and  costume  which  constituted  the  plain  dif- 
ference between  herself  and  the  other  girls  on  the 
jetty.  At  that  moment  she  stood  erect,  and  turned 
round.  Why,  she  was  quite  young  .  .  .  He 
approached  her     ...     It  was  Adeline. 

Astonishment  was  so  clearly  written  on  his  face 
that  she  laughed  as  they  exchanged  greetings. 

"  You  seem  startled  at  the  change  in  me,"  she  said 
abruptly.  "  Do  you  know  that  I  positively  adore 
clothes,  though  I  've  only  just  found  it  out.  The 
first  thing  I  did  when  I  got  here  was  to  go  over  to 
Brighton,  and  spend  terrific  sums  at  a  dressmaker's. 
You  see,  there  was  n't  time  in  London.     You  don't 


A  MAN  FROM  THE  NORTH        167 

despise  me  for  it,  I  hope?  I  Ve  plenty  of  money  — 
enough  to  last  a  long,  long  time." 

She  was  dazzling,  and  she  openly  rejoiced  in  the 
effect  her  appearance  had  made  on  Richard. 

"  You  could  n't  have  done  better,"  he  answered, 
suddenly  discovering  with  chagrin  that  his  own  serge 
suit  was  worn  and  shabby. 

"I'm  relieved,"  she  said;  "I  was  afraid  my 
friend  might  think  me  vain  and  extravagant."  Her 
manner  of  saying  "  my  friend  " —  half  mockery,  half 
deference  —  gave  Richard  intense  satisfaction. 

They  walked  to  the  end  of  the  jetty  and  sat  down 
on  a  stone  seat. 

"Isn't  it  beautiful?"  she  exclaimed  enthusiastic- 
ally. 

"  What  —  the  town,  or  the  people,  or  the  sea?  " 

"  Everything.  I  've  scarcely  been  to  the  seaside 
before  in  all  my  life,  and  I  think  it's  lovely." 

"  The  sea  would  be  splendid  if  one  could  see  it, 
but  it  blinds  one  even  to  glance  at  it  in  this  heat." 

"  You  shall  have  half  my  sunshade."  She  put 
It  over  him  with  a  protective  gesture. 

"  No,  no,"  he  demurred. 

"I  say  yes.  Why  don't  men  carry  sunshades? 
It 's  only  their  pride  that  stops  them.  ...  So 
you  don't  like  the  town  and  the  people?  " 

"Well—" 


1 68        A  MAN  FROM  THE  NORTH 

"  I  love  to  see  plenty  of  people  about.  And  you 
would,  too,  If  you  'd  been  fixed  like  me.  I  've  never 
seen  a  real  crowd.  There  are  crushes  when  you  go 
into  theatres,  sometimes,  aren't  there?" 

"  Yes.     Women  faint." 

"  But  I  should  n't.  I  would  have  given  anything 
not  long  ago  to  be  in  one  of  those  crushes.  Now,  of 
course,  I  can  just  please  myself.  When  we  are  back 
in  London,  do  you  think  I  could  persuade  you  to 
take  me?  " 

"  You  might,"  he  said,  *'  if  you  asked  nicely.  But 
young  ladies  who  wear  clothes  like  yours  don't 
usually  patronise  the  pit,  where  the  crushes  are. 
Stalls  or  dress  circle  would  be  more  in  your  style.  I 
propose  we  take  the  dress  circle.  You  would  n't  en- 
joy your  crush  going  in,  but  at  the  Lyceum  and  some 
other  theatres,  there  is  quite  a  superior  crush  coming 
out  of  the  stalls  and  dress  circle." 

"  Yes,  that  is  better.  And  I  shall  buy  more 
clothes.  Oh !  I  will  be  shockingly  wasteful.  If 
poor  old  uncle  knew  how  his  money  was  to  be 
spent  — " 

A  little  child,  chased  by  one  still  less,  fell  down 
flat  in  front  of  them,  and  began  to  cry.  Adeline 
picked  it  up,  losing  her  sunshade,  and  kissed  both 
children.     Then  she  took  a  paper  of  chocolates  from 


A  MAN  FROM  THE  NORTH        169 

her  pocket  and  gave  several  to  each  child,  and  they 
ran  away  without  saying  thank  you. 

"Have  one?"     She  offered  the  bag  to  Richard. 
"  That 's  another  luxury  I  shall  indulge  In  —  choco- 
lates.    Do  have  just  one,  to  keep  me  company,"  she 
appealed.     "  By  the  way,  about  dinner.     I  ordered 
dinner  for  both  of  us  at  my  rooms,  but  we  can  im- 
prove on  that.     I  have  discovered  a  lovely  little  vil- 
lage a  few  miles  away,  Angmering,  all  old  cottages 
and  no  drains.     Let  us  drive  there  in  a  victoria,  and 
picnic  at  a  cottage.     I  know  the  exact  place  for  us. 
There  will  be  no  people  there  to  annoy  you." 
"  But  you  like  '  people,'  so  that  won't  do  at  all." 
*'  I  will  do  without  '  people  '  for  this  day." 
"  And  what  shall  we  have  for  dinner?  " 
*'  Oh !  Eggs  and  bread  and  butter  and  tea." 
"  Tea  for  dinner!     Not  very  solid,  is  It?  " 
"  Greedy !     If  you  have  such  a  large  appetite,  eat 
a  few  more  chocolates;  they  will  take  It  away." 
She  rose,  pointing  to  a  victoria  In  the  distance. 
He  looked  at  her  without  getting  up,  and  their 
eyes   met  with   smiles.     Then  he,   too,   rose.     He 
thought  he  had  never  felt  so  happy.     An  intoxica- 
ting vision  of  future  felicities  momentarily  suggested 
Itself,  only  to  fade  before  the  actuality  of  the  pres- 
ent. 


170        A  MAN  FROM  THE  NORTH 

The  victoria  stopped  at  Adeline's  rooms.  She 
called  through  the  open  window  to  Lottie,  who  came 
out  and  received  orders  to  dine  alone,  or  with  the 
landlady  If  she  preferred. 

"  Lottie  and  Mrs.  Bishop  are  great  friends,"  Ade- 
line said.  "  The  silly  girl  would  sooner  stay  in  to 
help  Mrs.  Bishop  with  housework  than  go  out  on 
the  beach  with  me." 

"  She  must  Indeed  be  silly.  I  know  which  I 
should  choose !  "  It  seemed  a  remark  of  unutter- 
able clumsiness  —  after  he  had  said  it,  but  Adeline's 
faint  smile  showed  no  dissatisfaction.  He  reflected 
that  he  would  have  been  better  pleased  had  she  to- 
tally ignored  it. 

The  carriage  ran  smoothly  along  the  dusty  roads, 
now  passing  under  trees,  and  now  skirting  poppy-clad 
fields  whose  vivid  scarlet  almost  encroached  on  the 
highway  Itself.  Richard  lay  back,  as  he  had  seen 
men  do  in  the  Park,  his  shoulder  lightly  touching 
Adeline's.  She  talked  Incessantly,  though  slowly.  In 
that  low  voice  of  hers,  and  her  tones  mingled  with 
the  measured  trot  of  the  enfeebled  horse,  and  lulled 
Richard  to  a  sensuous  quiescence.  He  slightly 
turned  his  face  towards  hers,  and  with  dreamy  de- 
liberateness  examined  her  features, —  the  dimple  In 
her  cheek  which  he  had  never  noticed  before,  the 
curves  of  her  ear,  her  teeth,  her  smooth  black  hair, 


A  MAN  FROM  THE  NORTH        171 

the  play  of  light  In  her  eye ;  then  his  gaze  moved 
to  her  large  felt  hat,  set  bewltchingly  aslant  on  the 
small  head,  and  then  for  a  space  he  would  look  at  the 
yellowish-green  back  of  the  imperturbable  driver, 
who  drove  on  and  on,  little  witting  that  enchantment 
was  behind  him. 

They  consumed  the  eggs  and  bread  and  butter  and 
tea  which  Adeline  had  promised;  and  they  filled  their 
pockets  with  fruit.  That  was  Adeline's  idea.  She 
gave  herself  up  to  enjoyment  like  a  child.  When 
the  sun  was  less  strenuous  they  walked  about  the  vil- 
lage, sitting  down  frequently  to  admire  Its  continual 
picturesqueness.  Time  sped  with  astonishing  rapid- 
ity; Richard's  train  went  at  twenty-five  minutes  past 
seven,  and  already,  as  they  stood  by  the  margin  of 
the  tiny  tributary  of  the  Arun,  some  grandfather's 
clock  In  a  neighbouring  cottage  clattered  five.  He 
was  tempted  to  say  nothing  about  the  train,  quietly 
allow  himself  to  miss  it,  and  go  up  by  the  first 
ordinary  on  Monday  morning.  But  soon  Adeline 
Inquired  about  his  return,  and  they  set  off  to  walk 
back  to  LIttlehampton;  the  carriage  had  been  dis- 
missed. He  Invented  pretexts  for  loitering,  made 
her  sit  on  walls  to  eat  apples,  tried  to  get  lost  In  by- 
paths, protested  that  he  could  not  keep  the  pace  she 
set;  but  to  no  purpose.  They  arrived  at  the  sta- 
tion at  exactly  a  quarter  past  seven.     The  platform 


172        A  MAN  FROM  THE  NORTH 

was  busy,  and  they  strolled  to  the  far  end  of  it  and 
stood  by  the  engine. 

"  I  wish  to  heaven  the  train  did  n't  leave  so  early," 
he  said.  "  I  'm  sure  the  sea  air  would  do  me  a  lot 
of  good,  if  I  could  get  enough  of  it.  What  a  beau- 
tiful day  it  has  been !  "     He  sighed  sentimentally. 

"  I  never,  never  enjoyed  myself  so  perfectly,"  she 
said  emphatically.  "  Suppose  we  beseech  the  en- 
gine-driver to  lie  still  for  a  couple  of  hours?  "  Rich- 
ard's smile  was  inattentive. 

"  You  are  sure  you  have  n't  done  too  much,"  he 
said  with  sudden  solicitude,  looking  at  her  half  anx- 
iously. 

"  I !  not  a  bit.     I  am  absolutely  well  again."     Her 
eyes  found  his  and  held  them,  and  it  seemed  to  him 
that  mystic  messages  passed  to  and  fro. 
"  How  long  do  you  think  of  staying?  " 
"  Not  long.     It  gets  rather  boring,  being  alone. 
I  expect  I  shall  return  on  Saturday." 

"  I  was  thinking  I  would  run  down  again  on  Sat- 
urday for  the  week-end, —  take  a  week-end  ticket," 
he  said;  "  but  of  course,  if — " 

*'  In  that  case  I  should  stay  a  few  days  longer.  I 
could  n't  allow  myself  to  deprive  you  of  the  sea  air 
which  is  doing  you  so  much  good.  By  next  Satur- 
day I  may  have  discovered  more  nice  places  to  visit, 


A  MAN  FROM  THE  NORTH        173 

perhaps    even    prettier    than    Angmering     . 
But  you  must  get  in." 

He  would  have  given  a  great  deal  just  then  to  be 
able  to  say  firmly:  "  I  have  changed  my  mind  about 
going.  I  will  stay  at  a  hotel  to-night  and  take  the 
first  train  to-morrow."  But  it  required  more  de- 
cision than  he  possessed,  and  in  a  few  moments  he 
was  waving  good-bye  to  her  from  the  carriage  win- 
dow. 

There  were  several  other  people  In  the  compart- 
ment,—  a  shy  shop-girl  and  her  middle-aged  lover, 
evidently  employes  of  the  same  establishment,  and  an 
artisan  with  his  wife  and  a  young  child.  Richard 
observed  them  intently,  and  found  a  curious,  new 
pleasure  in  all  their  unstudied  gestures  and  in  every- 
thing they  said.  But  chiefly  he  kept  a  watch  on  the 
shop-girl's  lover,  who  made  it  no  secret  that  he  was 
dwelling  in  the  seventh  heaven.  Richard  sympa- 
thised with  that  man.  His  glance  fell  on  him 
softly,  benignantly.  As  the  train  passed  station  after 
station,  he  wondered  what  Adeline  was  doing,  now, 
and  now,  and  now. 

On  the  following  Saturday  he  took  tea  with  Ade- 
line at  her  lodgings.  The  train  had  been  late,  and 
by  the  time  they  were  ready  for  the  evening  walk 


174        A  MAN  FROM  THE  NORTH 

without  which  no  visitor  to  the  seaside  calls  the  day 
complete,  it  was  close  upon  nine  o'clock.  The  beach 
was  like  a  fair  or  a  north-country  wake.  Conjurers, 
fire-eaters,  and  minstrels  each  drew  an  audience;  but 
the  principal  attraction  was  a  man  and  woman  who 
wore  masks  and  were  commonly  supposed  to  be  dis- 
tinguished persons  to  whom  fate  had  been  unkind. 
They  had  a  piano  In  a  donkey-cart,  and  the  woman 
sang  to  the  man's  accompaniment.  Just  as  Richard 
and  Adeline  came  up,  "  The  River  of  Years  "  was 
announced  for  performance. 

"  Let  us  listen  to  this,"  said  Adeline. 

They  stood  at  the  rim  of  the  crowd.  The  woman 
had  a  rich  contralto  voice  and  sang  with  feeling, 
and  her  listeners  were  generous  of  both  applause  and 
coppers. 

"  I  wonder  who  she  Is,"  Adeline  murmured,  with 
a  touch  of  melancholy, — "  I  wonder  who  she  Is.  I 
love  that  song." 

"  Oh,  probably  some  broken-down  concert- 
singer,"  Richard  said  curtly,  "  with  a  drunken  hus- 
band." 

"  But  she  sang  beautifully.  She  made  me  feel  — 
you  know  —  funny  ...  A  lovely  feeling, 
is  n't  It?  "     She  looked  up  at  him. 

"  Yes,"  he  said,  smiling  at  her. 

"  You  're  laughing." 


A  MAN  FROM  THE  NORTH        175 

"  Indeed  I  'm  not.  I  know  what  you  mean  per- 
fectly well.  Perhaps  I  had  It  just  then,  too  —  a 
little.     But  the  song  Is  a  bit  cheap." 

"  /  could  listen  to  It  every  day,  and  never  get  tired 
of  listening.  Don't  you  think  that  if  a  song  gives 
anyone  that  —  feeling,  there  must  be  some  good  in 
It?" 

"Of  course  it's  far  better  than  most;  but — " 

"  But  not  equal  to  those  classical  songs  you  told 
me  about  —  the  first  time  I  saw  you,  wasn't  it? 
Yes,  Schubert:  was  that  the  name?  I  mean  to  get 
those,  and  you  must  show  me  the  best  ones,  and  play 
the  accompaniments,  and  then  I  shall  judge  for  my- 
self." 

"  I  shall  make  an  awful  mess  of  the  accompani- 
ments; they  're  not  precisely  easy,  you  know." 

"Full  of  accidentals,  are  they?  I  sha'n't  like 
them,  then.     I  never  do  like  that  sort  of  song." 

"  But  you  will;  you  must." 

"Must  I?"  she  almost  whispered,  in  tones  of 
gentle,  feminine  surrender.  And  after  a  second  or 
two:  "  Then  I  '11  try,  if  it  will  keep  you  in  a  good 
temper." 

They  stood  fronting  the  sea.  She  looked  straight 
ahead  Into  the  darkening  distance,  and  then  turned 
round  to  him  with  a  mock  plaintive  expression,  and 
they  both  laughed. 


176       A  MAN  FROM  THE  NORTH 

"  Would  n't  it  be  better  up  by  the  river,"  he  sug- 
gested, "  where  there  are  fewer  people?  " 

A  little  to  his  surprise,  she  agreed  that  it  was 
certainly  rather  noisy  and  crowded  on  the  beach  on 
Saturday  nights,  and  they  turned  their  backs  to  the 
shore.  The  moon  had  risen,  and  shone  at  intervals 
through  clouds.  For  a  few  score  yards  they  walked 
in  silence.     Then  Adeline  said, — 

"  It 's  very  dull  here  during  the  week  for  a  poor 
single  woman  like  me.     I  shall  go  home  on  Monday." 

"  But  think  of  London  in  this  weather." 

"  I  do  think  of  it.  I  think  of  the  parks  and 
the  restaurants  and  the  theatres." 

"  The  good  theatres  are  closed  now." 

"  Well,  the  music-halls.  I  've  never  been  in  one, 
and  if  they  are  very  naughty,  then  I  want  to  go  very 
much.  Besides,  there  are  lots  of  theatres  open. 
I  've  read  all  the  theatrical  advertisements  in  the 
'  Telegraph,'  and  there  must  be  plenty  of  things  to 
see.  You  may  n't  think  them  worth  seeing,  but  I 
should  enjoy  any  theatre." 

"  I  believe  you  would,"  he  said.  "  I  used  to  be 
like  that." 

"  Up  to  now  I  've  had  no  real  pleasure  —  what  I 
call  pleasure  —  and  I  'm  just  going  to  have  it.  I  '11 
settle  down  afterwards." 


A  MAN  FROM  THE  NORTH        177 

"  Did  n't  your  uncle  take  you  out  much?  " 

"  I  should  say  he  did  n't.  He  took  me  to  a  con- 
cert once.  That  was  all  —  in  nearly  two  years.  I 
suppose  it  never  occurred  to  him  that  I  was  leading 
a  dull  life." 

She  made  a  movement  with  her  hands,  as  if  to  put 
away  from  her  all  the  drab  dailiness  of  her  existence 
in  Carteret  Street. 

"  You  can  soon  recover  lost  time,"  Richard  said 
cheerfully. 

His  fancy  was  in  the  rosy  future,  vividly  picturing 
the  light-hearted  gaities,  Bohemian,  unconventional, 
artistic,  in  which  he  and  she  should  unite.  He  saw 
himself  and  Adeline  becoming  dearer  to  each  other, 
and  still  dearer,  her  spirit  unfolding  like  a  flower, 
and  disclosing  new  beauties  day  by  day.  He  saw 
her  eyes  glisten  when  they  met  his;  felt  the  soft 
pressure  of  her  hand;  heard  her  voice  waver  with 
tenderness,  expectant  of  his  avowal.  And  then  came 
his  own  bold  declaration :  "  I  love  you,  Adeline," 
and  her  warm,  willing  lips  were  upon  his.  God  I 
To  dream  of  such  beautitudesi 

She  had  slightly  quickened  her  step.  The  quays 
were  silent  and  deserted,  save  for  these  two.  Pres- 
ently masts  rose  vaguely  against  the  sky,  and  they  ap- 
proached a   large  ship.     Richard  leaned  over  the 


178        A  MAN  FROM  THE  NORTH 

parapet  to  decipher  the  name  on  her  bows. 
"  JuHane,"  he  spelt  out. 

"  That  Is  Norwegian  or  Danish." 

They  hngered  a  few  moments,  watching  the 
movements  of  dim  figures  on  deck,  Hstening  to  the 
musical  chatter  of  an  unknown  tongue,  and  breathing 
that  atmosphere  of  romance  and  adventure  which 
foreign  vessels  carry  with  them  from  strange  lands; 
then  they  walked  on. 

"  Hush!  "  exclaimed  Adeline,  stopping,  and  touch- 
ing Richard's  arm. 

The  sailors  were  singing  some  quaint  modern 
strain. 

"  What  Is  It?  "  she  asked  when  they  had  finished 
a  verse. 

"  It  must  be  a  Norwegian  folk-song.  It  reminds 
me  of  Grieg." 

Another  verse  was  sung.  It  began  to  rain, — 
warm,  summer  drops. 

"  You  will  be  wet,"  Richard  said. 

"  Never  mind." 

A  third  verse  followed,  and  then  a  new  air  was 
started.     It  rained  faster. 

"  Come  under  the  shelter  of  the  wall  here,"  Rich- 
ard urged,  timidly  taking  her  arm.  "  I  think  I  see 
an  archway." 

"  Yes,   yes,"  she  murmured,  with  sweet  acquies- 


A  MAN  FROM  THE  NORTH        179 

cence;  and  they  stood  together  a  long  time  under 
the  archway  in  silence,  while  the  Norwegian  sailors, 
heedless  of  weather,  sang  song  after  song. 

The  next  morning  the  sky  had  cleared  again,  but 
there  was  a  mist  over  the  calm  sea.  They  walked 
idly  on  the  level  sands.  At  first  they  were  almost 
alone.  The  mist  Intensified  distances;  a  group  of 
little  children  paddling  in  a  foot  of  water  appeared 
to  be  miles  away.  Slowly  the  mist  was  scattered  by 
the  sun,  and  the  beach  became  populous  with  visitors 
In  Sunday  attire.  In  the  afternoon  they  drove  to 
Angmering,  Adeline  having  found  no  preferable 
haunt. 

"You  have  no  train  to  catch  to-night,"  she  said; 
"what  a  relief!  Shall  you  start  very  early  to-mor- 
row?" 

"I'm  not  particular,"  he  answered.     "Why?" 

"  I  was  thinking  that  Lottie  and  I  would  go  up 
by  the  same  train  as  you,  but  perhaps  you  won't  care 
to  be  bothered  with  women  and  their  luggage." 

"  If  you  really  intend  to  return  to-morrow,  I  '11 
wire  to  Curpet  not  to  expect  me  till  after  lunch,  and 
we  '11  go  at  a  reasonable  hour." 

He  left  her  at  her  lodging  as  the  clock  was  strik- 
ing eleven;  but  Instead  of  making  direct  for  his 
hotel,  he  turned  aside  to  the  river  to  have  a  last  look 
at  the  "  Juliane."     Curiously,  it  began  to  rain,  and 


i8o       A  MAN  FROM  THE  NORTH 

he  sheltered  under  the  archway  where  he  had  stood 
with  Adeline  on  the  previous  night.  Aboard  the 
"  Juliane  "  there  was  stir  and  bustle.  He  guessed 
that  the  ship  was  about  to  weigh  anchor  and  drop 
down  with  the  tide.  Just  after  midnight  she  shd 
cautiously  away  from  the  quay,  to  the  accompani- 
ment of  hoarse  calls  and  the  rattling  of  chains  and 
blocks. 


CHAPTER  XX 

DURING  the  journey  to  town  Adeline 
would  talk  of  nothing  but  her  intention  to 
taste  all  the  amusements  which  London 
had  to  offer.  She  asked  numberless  questions  with 
the  persistency  of  an  inquisitive  child,  while  Lottie 
modestly  hid  herself  behind  a  copy  of  "  Tit  Bits," 
which  had  been  bought  for  her. 

"  Now  I  will  read  out  the  names  of  the  plays  ad- 
vertised in  the  '  Telegraph,'  "  she  said,  "  and  you 
must  tell  me  what  each  is  like,  and  whether  the  ac- 
tors are  good,  and  the  actresses  pretty,  and  things  of 
that  kind." 

Richard  entered  with  zest  into  the  conversation. 
He  was  in  a  boisterous  mood,  and  found  her  very 
willing  to  be  diverted.  Once,  when  he  used  a  tech- 
nical term,  she  stopped  him :  "  Remember,  I  have 
never  been  to  a  theatre."  On  Sunday  she  had  made 
the  same  remark  several  times.  It  seemed  as  if  she 
liked  to  insist  on  the  point. 

The  morning  was  delicious,  full  of  light  and  fresh- 
ness, and  the  torpid  countryside  through  which  the 
train  swept   at   full   speed   suggested   a   gentle   yet 

i8i 


i82        A  MAN  FROM  THE  NORTH 

piquant  contrast  to  the  urban,  gaslight  themes  which 
they  were  discussing.  Though  the  sun  shone  with 
power,  Adehne  would  not  have  the  blinds  drawn,  but 
sometimes  she  used  the  newspaper  for  a  shade,  or 
bent  her  head  so  that  the  broad  brim  of  her  hat 
might  come  between  her  eyes  and  the  sunshine. 
After  an  hour  the  talk  slackened  somewhat.  As 
Richard,  from  his  seat  opposite,  looked  now  at 
Adeline  and  now  at  the  landscape,  a  perfect  content 
stole  over  him.  He  wished  that  the  distance  to 
London  could  have  been  multiplied  tenfold,  and  re- 
joiced in  every  delay.  Then  he  began  to  miss  the 
purport  of  her  questions,  and  she  had  to  repeat 
them.  He  was  examining  his  heart.  "  Is  this 
love?  "  his  thoughts  ran.  "  Do  I  actually  love  her 
now, —  now?  " 

When  the  train  stopped  at  New  Cross,  and  Rich- 
ard said  that  they  would  be  at  London  Bridge  in  a 
few  minutes,  she  asked  when  he  would  go  down  to 
Carteret  Street. 

"  Any  time,"  he  said. 

"  To-morrow  night?  " 

He  had  hoped  she  would  fix  the  same  evening. 

"When  is  the  theatre-going  to  commence?"  he 
queried. 

She  laughed  vaguely:     "  Soon," 

"Suppose  I  book  seats  for  the  Comedy?" 


A  MAN  FROM  THE  NORTH        183 

"  We  will  talk  about  it  to-morrow  night." 

It  appeared  that  her  desire  for  the  relaxations  of 
town  life  had  suddenly  lost  its  Instancy. 

Immediately  he  reached  the  office  he  wrote  a  note 
to  Mr.  Clayton  Vernon.  Some  three  hundred 
pounds  was  coming  to  him  under  the  will  of  William 
Vernon,  and  he  had  purposed  to  let  Mr.  Clayton 
Vernon  invest  this  sum  for  him ;  but  the  letter  asked 
that  a  cheque  for  £25  should  be  sent  by  return  of 
post.  Later  In  the  afternoon  he  went  to  a  tailor  In 
Holborn,  and  ordered  two  suits  of  clothes. 

He  grew  restless  and  introspective,  vainly  en- 
deavouring to  analyse  his  feeling  towards  Adeline. 
He  wished  that  he  had  himself  suggested  that  he 
should  call  on  her  that  night.  Instead  of  allowing  her 
to  name  Tuesday.  When  he  got  home,  he  looked 
at  the  letter  which  he  had  received  from  her  a  fort- 
night before,  and  then,  enclosing  it  in  a  clean  en- 
velope, put  it  away  carefully  in  his  writing-case.  He 
felt  that  he  must  preserve  all  her  letters.  The  even- 
ing dragged  itself  out  with  desolating  tedium.  Once 
he  went  downstairs  Intending  to  go  to  the  theatre, 
but  returned  before  he  had  unlatched  the  front  door. 

Mrs.  Rowbotham  laid  his  supper  that  evening, 
and  he  began  to  tell  her  about  his  holiday,  mention- 
ing, with  fictitious  naivete,  that  he  had  spent  It  In  the 
company  of  a  young  lady.     Soon  he  gave  the  whole 


1 84       A  MAN  FROM  THE  NORTH 

history  of  his  acquaintance  with  the  Akeds.  She 
warmly  praised  his  kindness  towards  Adehne. 

"  My  Lily  is  keeping  company  with  a  young  man," 
she  said,  after  a  pause;  "a  respectable  young  chap 
he  is,  a  bus-conductor.  This  is  his  night  off,  and 
they  're  gone  to  the  Promenade  Concert.  I  did  n't 
like  her  going  at  first,  but,  bless  you,  you  have  to 
give  In.  Young  folk  are  young  folk,  all  the  world 
over.  .  .  .  But  I  must  be  getting  downstairs 
again.  I  have  to  do  everything  myself  to-night. 
Ah !  when  a  girl  falls  in  love,  she  forgets  her  mother. 
It 's  natural,  I  suppose.  Well,  Mr.  Larch,  it  will 
be  your  turn  soon,  I  hope."  With  that  she  left  the 
room  quickly,  missing  Richard's  hurried  disclaimer. 

"  So  you  're  engaged,  Lily,"  he  said  to  the  girl 
next  morning. 

Lily  blushed  and  nodded ;  and  as  he  looked  at  her 
eyes,  he  poignantly  longed  for  the  evening. 


CHAPTER  XXI 

THEY  sat  by  the  window  and  talked  till  the 
day  began  to  fade  and  the  lamplighter  had 
passed  up  the  street.  Several  matters  of 
business  needed  discussion, —  the  proving  of  Mr. 
Aked's  will,  the  tenancy  of  the  house  and  the  open- 
ing of  a  new  banking-account.  Richard,  who  was 
acting  informally  as  legal  adviser,  after  the  manner 
of  solicitors'  clerks  towards  their  friends,  brought 
from  his  pocket  some  papers  for  Adeline's  signature. 
She  took  a  pen  Immediately. 

"  Where  do  I  put  my  name?  " 

"  But  you  must  read  them  first." 

"I  shouldn't  understand  them  a  bit,"  she  said; 
"  and  what  is  the  use  of  employing  a  lawyer,  If  one 
is  put  to  the  trouble  of  reading  everything  one 
signs : 

"  Well  —  please  yourself.  To-morrow  you  will 
have  to  go  before  a  commissioner  for  oaths  and 
swear  that  certain  things  are  true;  you'll  be  com- 
pelled to  read  the  affidavits." 

"  That  I  won't  1     I  shall  just  swear." 

"  But  you  simply  must." 

185 


1 86        A  MAN  FROM  THE  NORTH 

"  Sha'n't.  If  I  swear  to  fibs,  It  will  be  your 
fault." 

"  Suppose  I  read  them  out  to  you?  " 

"  Yes,  that  would  be  nicer;  but  not  now,  after  sup- 
per." 

For  a  few  moments  there  was  silence.  She  stood 
up  and  drew  her  finger  in  fanciful  curves  across  the 
window-pane.  Richard  watched  her,  with  a  smile 
of  luxurious  content.  It  appeared  to  him  that  all 
her  movements,  every  inflection  of  her  voice,  her 
least  word,  had  the  authenticity  and  the  intrinsic 
grace  of  natural  phenomena.  If  she  turned  her 
head  or  tapped  her  foot,  the  gesture  was  right, — 
having  the  propriety  which  springs  from  absolute 
self-unconsciousness.  Her  mere  existence  from  one 
moment  to  the  next  seemed  in  some  mysterious  way 
to  suggest  a  possible  solution  of  the  riddle  of  life. 
She  illustrated  nature.  She  was  for  him  intimately 
a  part  of  nature,  the  great  Nature  which  hides  itself 
from  cities.  To  look  at  her  afforded  him  a  delight 
curiously  similar  to  that  which  the  townsman  derives 
from  a  rural  landscape.  Her  face  had  little  conven- 
tional beauty;  her  conversation  contained  no  hint 
either  of  intellectual  powers  or  of  a  capacity  for  deep 
feeling.  But  in  her  case,  according  to  his  view, 
these  things  were  unnecessary,  would  in  fact  have 
been  superfluous.     She  was  and  that  sufficed. 


A  MAN  FROM  THE  NORTH        187 

Mingled  with  the  pleasure  which  her  nearness 
gave  him,  there  were  subordinate  but  distinct  sensa- 
tions. Except  his  sister  Mary,  he  had  never  before 
been  upon  terms  of  close  familiarity  with  any 
woman,  and  he  realised  with  elation  that  now  for 
the  first  time  the  latencies  of  manhood  were  aroused. 
His  friendship  —  If  indeed  it  were  nothing  else  — 
with  this  gracious,  inscrutable  creature  seemed  a 
thing  to  be  very  proud  of,  to  gloat  upon  in  secret,  to 
contemplate  with  a  dark  smile  as  one  walked  along 
the  street  or  sat  In  a  bus.  .  .  .  And  then,  with 
a  shock  of  joyful,  half-Incredulous  surprise,  he  made 
the  discovery  that  she  —  she  —  had  found  some  at- 
tractiveness In  himself. 

Their  loneliness  gave  zest  and  piquancy  to  the 
situation.  On  neither  side  were  there  relatives  or 
friends  who  might  obtrude,  or  whom  It  would  be 
proper  to  consult.  They  had  only  themselves  to 
consider.  Not  a  soul  In  London,  with  the  exception 
of  Lottie,  knew  of  their  Intimacy, —  the  visit  to  Lit- 
tlehampton,  their  plans  for  visiting  the  theatres,  her 
touching  reliance  upon  him.  Ah,  that  confiding 
feminine  trust !  He  read  it  frequently  In  her  glance, 
and  It  gave  him  a  sense  of  protective  possession. 
He  had  approached  no  closer  than  to  shake  her 
hand,  and  yet,  as  he  looked  at  the  slight  frame,  the 
fragile  fingers,  the  tufts  of  hair  which  escaped  over 


1 88       A  MAN  FROM  THE  NORTH 

her  ears, —  these  things  seemed  to  be  his.  Surely 
she  had  donned  that  beautiful  dress  for  him;  surely 
she  moved  gracefully  for  him,  talked  softly  for 
him  I 

He  left  his  chair,  quietly  lighted  the  candles  at 
the  piano,  and  began  to  turn  over  some  songs. 

"  What  are  you  doing?  "  she  asked,  from  the  win- 
dow. 

"  I  want  you  to  sing." 

"  Must  I  ?  " 

"  Certainly.  Let  me  find  something  with  an 
easy  accompaniment." 

She  came  towards  him,  took  up  a  song,  opened  it, 
and  bade  him  look  at  it. 

"  Too  difficult,"  he  said  abruptly.  *'  Those  ar- 
peggios in  the  bass, —  I  could  n't  possibly  play 
them." 

She  laid  it  aside  obediently. 

"Well,  this?" 

"  Yes.     Let  us  try  that." 

She  moved  nearer  to  him,  to  miss  the  reflection  of 
the  candles  on  the  paper,  and  put  her  hands  behind 
her  back.  She  cleared  her  throat.  He  knew  she 
was  nervous,  but  he  had  no  such  feeling  himself. 

*'  Ready?  "  he  asked,  glancing  round  and  up  into 
her  face.  She  smiled  timidly,  flushing,  and  then 
nodded. 


A  MAN  FROM  THE  NORTH       189 

"  No,"  she  exclaimed  the  next  second,  as  he  boldly 
struck  the  first  chord.  "  I  don't  think  I  '11  sing.  I 
can  t. 

"  Oh,  yes,  you  will  —  yes,  you  will." 

"  Very  well."     She  resigned  herself. 

The  first  few  notes  were  tremulous,  but  quickly 
she  gained  courage.  The  song  was  a  mediocre 
drawing-room  ballad,  and  she  did  not  sing  with  much 
expression,  but  to  Richard's  ear  her  weak  contralto 
floated  out  above  the  accompaniment  with  a  rich, 
passionate  quality  full  of  Intimate  meanings.  When 
his  own  part  of  the  performance  was  not  too  exact- 
ing, he  watched  from  the  corner  of  his  eye  the  rise 
and  fall  of  her  breast,  and  thought  of  Keats's  son- 
net; and  then  he  suddenly  quaked  In  fear  that  all 
this  happiness  might  crumble  at  the  touch  of  some 
adverse  fate. 

"  I  suppose  you  call  that  a  poor  song,"  she  said 
when  it  was  finished. 

"  I  liked  it  very  much." 

"  You  did?  I  am  so  fond  of  It,  and  I  'm  glad  you 
like  It.  Shall  we  try  another?"  She  offered  the 
suggestion  with  a  gentle  diffidence  which  made 
Richard  desire  to  abase  himself  before  her,  to  ask 
what  in  the  name  of  heaven  she  meant  by  looking 
to  him  as  an  authority,  a  person  whose  will  was  to 
be  consulted  and  whose  humours  were  law. 


190        A  MAN  FROM  THE  NORTH 

Again  she  put  her  hands  behind  her  back,  cleared 
her  throat,  and  began  to  sing.  .  .  .  He  had 
gHmpses  of  mystic,  emotional  deeps  in  her  spirit 
hitherto  unsuspected. 

Lottie  came  in  with  a  lamp. 

"  You  would  like  supper?  "  Adeline  said.  "  Lot- 
tie, let  us  have  supper  at  once." 

Richard  remembered  that  when  Mr.  Aked  was 
alive,  Adeline  had  been  accustomed  to  go  into  the 
kitchen  and  attend  to  the  meals  herself;  but  evi- 
dently this  arrangement  was  now  altered.  She  ex- 
tinguished the  candles  on  the  piano,  and  took  the 
easy-chair  with  a  question  about  Schubert.  Supper 
was  to  be  served  without  the  aid  of  the  mistress  of 
the  house.  She  had  been  training  Lottie, —  that 
was  clear.  He  looked  round.  The  furniture  was 
unchanged,  but  everything  had  an  unwonted  air  of 
comfort  and  neatness,  and  Adeline's  beautiful  dress 
scarcely  seemed  out  of  keeping  with  the  general  as- 
pect of  the  room.  He  gathered  that  she  had  social 
aspirations.  He  had  social  aspirations  himself. 
His  fancy  delighted  to  busy  itself  with  fine  clothes, 
fine  furniture,  fine  food,  and  fine  manners.  That 
his  own  manners  had  remained  inelegant  was  due  to 
the  fact  that  the  tireless  effort  and  vigilance  which 
any   amelioration   of   their   original   crudity   would 


A  MAN  FROM  THE  NORTH        191 

have  necessitated,  were  beyond  his  tenacity  of  pur- 
pose. 

The  supper  was  trimly  laid  on  a  very  white  table- 
cloth, and  chairs  were  drawn  up.  Lottie  stood  in 
the  background  for  a  few  moments;  Adeline  called 
her  for  some  trifling  service,  and  then  dismissed  her. 

"Won't  you  have  some  whisky?  I  know  men  al- 
ways like  whisky  at  night." 

She  touched  a  bell  on  the  table. 

"  The  whisky,  Lottie  —  you  forgot  it." 

Richard  was  almost  awed  by  her  demeanour. 
Where  could  she  have  learnt  it?  He  felt  not  un- 
like a  bumpkin,  and  secretly  determined  to  live  up  to 
the  standard  of  deportment  which  she  had  set. 

"  You  may  smoke,"  she  said,  when  Lottie  had 
cleared  the  table  after  supper;  "  I  like  it.  Here  are 
some  cigarettes  — '  Three  Castles  ' — will  they  do?  " 
Laughing,  she  produced  a  box  from  the  sideboard, 
and  handed  it  to  him.  He  went  to  the  sofa,  and 
she  stood  with  one  elbow  resting  on  the  mantelpiece. 

"  About  going  to  the  theatre  — "  she  began. 

"  May  I  take  you?     Let  us  go  to  the  Comedy." 

"  And  you  will  book  seats,  the  dress  circle?  " 

"Yes.     What  night?" 

*'  Let  us  say  Friday.  .  .  .  And  now  you 
may  read  me  those  documents." 

When  that  business  was  transacted,  Richard  felt 


192       A  MAN  FROM  THE  NORTH 

somehow  that  he  must  depart,  and  began  to  take  his 
leave.  Adeline  stood  erect,  facing  him  in  front  of 
the  mantelpiece. 

"  Next  time  you  come,  you  will  bring  those  Schu- 
bert songs,  will  you  not?" 

Then  she  rang  the  bell,  shook  hands,  and  sat 
down.  He  went  out;  Lottie  was  waiting  in  the 
passage  with  his  hat  and  stick. 


CHAPTER  XXII 

SEVEN  or  eight  weeks  passed. 
During  that  time  Richard  spent  many 
evenings  with  Adeline,  at  the  theatre,  at  con- 
certs, and  at  Carteret  Street.  When  they  were  go- 
ing up  to  town,  he  called  for  her  in  a  hansom.  She 
usually  kept  him  waiting  a  few  minutes.  He  sat  in 
the  sitting-room,  listening  to  the  rattle  of  harness 
and  the  occasional  stamp  of  a  hoof  outside.  At 
length  he  heard  her  light  step  on  the  stairs,  and  she 
entered  the  room,  smiling  proudly.  She  was  won- 
derfully well  dressed,  with  modish  simplicity  and 
exact  finish,  and  she  gave  him  her  fan  to  hold  while 
she  buttoned  her  long  gloves.  Where  she  ordered 
her  gowns  he  never  had  the  least  notion.  They  fol- 
lowed one  another  in  rapid  succession,  and  each 
seemed  more  beautiful  than  the  last.  All  were  so- 
ber in  tint;  the  bodices  were  V-shaped,  and  cut 
rather  low. 

Lottie  carefully  placed  a  white  wrap  over  her 
mistress's  head,  and  then  they  were  off.  In  the 
hansom  there  was  but  little  conversation,  and  that  of 
a  trivial  character.     In  vain  he  endeavoured  to  en- 

193 


194        A  MAN  FROM  THE  NORTH 

tice  her  Into  discussions.  He  mentioned  books 
which  he  had  read;  she  showed  only  a  perfunctory 
Interest.  He  explained  why,  in  his  opinion,  a  par- 
ticular play  was  good  and  another  bad;  generally 
she  preferred  the  wrong  one,  or  at  least  maintained 
that  she  liked  all  plays,  and  therefore  would  not 
draw  comparisons.  Sometimes  she  would  argue 
briefly  about  the  conduct  of  certain  characters  In  a 
piece,  but  he  seldom  found  himself  genuinely  In 
agreement  with  her,  though  as  a  rule  he  verbally 
concurred.  In  music  she  was  a  little  less  unsympa- 
thetic towards  his  ideals.  They  had  tried  over  sev- 
eral of  his  favourite  classical  songs,  and  he  had  seen 
In  her  face,  as  she  listened,  or  hummed  the  air,  a 
glow  answering  to  his  own  enthusiasm.  She  had  said 
that  she  would  learn  one  of  them,  but  the  promise 
had  not  been  kept,  though  he  had  reminded  her  of 
it  several  times. 

These  chagrins,  however,  were  but  Infinitesimal 
ripples  upon  the  smooth  surface  of  his  happiness. 
All  of  them  together  were  as  nothing  compared  to 
the  sensations  which  he  experienced  in  helping  her 
out  of  the  cab,  in  the  full  glare  of  a  theatre  faqade. 
Invariably  he  overpaid  the  driver,  handing  him  the 
silver  with  an  inattentive  gesture,  while  Adeline 
waited  on  the  steps, —  dainty  food  for  the  eyes  of 
loiterers  and  passers-by.     He  offered  his  arm,  and 


A  MAN  FROM  THE  NORTH        195 

they  passed  down  the  vestibule  and  into  the  audi- 
torium. With  what  artless  enjoyment  she  settled 
herself  in  her  seat,  breathing  the  atmosphere  of  lux- 
ury and  display  as  If  it  had  been  ozone,  smiling  ra- 
diantly at  Richard,  and  then  eagerly  examining  the 
occupants  of  the  boxes  through  a  small,  silver- 
mounted  glass!  She  was  never  moved  by  the 
events  on  the  stage,  and  whether  it  happened  to  be 
tragedy  or  burlesque  at  which  they  were  assisting, 
she  turned  to  Richard  at  the  end  of  every  act  with 
the  same  happy,  contented  smile,  and  usually  began 
to  make  remarks  upon  the  men  and  women  around 
her.  It  was  the  play-house  and  not  the  play  of 
which  she  was  really  fond. 

After  the  fall  of  the  curtain,  they  lingered  till 
most  of  the  audience  had  gone.  Sometimes  they 
supped  at  a  restaurant.  "  It  is  my  turn,"  she  would 
say  now  and  then,  when  the  obsequious  waiter  pre- 
sented the  bill,  and  would  give  Richard  her  purse. 
At  first,  for  form's  sake,  he  insisted  on  his  right  to 
pay,  but  she  would  not  listen.  He  wondered  where 
she  had  caught  the  pretty  trick  of  handing  over  her 
purse  Instead  of  putting  down  the  coins,  and  he 
traced  It  to  a  play  which  they  had  seen  at  the  Vaude- 
ville theatre.  Yet  she  did  It  with  such  naturalness 
that  it  did  not  seem  to  have  been  copied.  The 
purse    was    small,    and    always    contained    several 


196       A  MAN  FROM  THE  NORTH 

pounds  in  gold,  with  a  little  silver.  The  bill  paid, 
he  gave  It  back  to  her  with  a  bow. 

Then  came  the  long,  rapid  drive  home,  through 
interminable  lamp-lined  streets,  peopled  now  only 
by  hansoms  and  private  carriages,  past  all  the  inso- 
lent and  garish  splendours  of  Piccadilly  clubs,  into 
whose  unveiled  windows  Adeline  eagerly  gazed; 
past  the  mysterious,  night-ridden  Park;  past  the  dim, 
solemn  squares  and  crescents  of  Kensington  and 
Chelsea,  and  so  into  the  meaner  vicinage  of  Fulham. 
It  was  during  these  midnight  journeys,  more  than  at 
any  other  time,  that  Richard  felt  himself  to  be  a 
veritable  inhabitant  of  the  City  of  Pleasure.  Ade- 
line, flushed  with  the  evening's  enjoyment,  talked  of 
many  things,  in  her  low,  even  voice,  which  was  never 
raised.  Richard  answered  briefly;  an  occasional  re- 
ply was  all  she  seemed  to  expect. 

Immediately,  on  getting  out  of  the  cab,  she  said 
good-night,  and  entered  the  house  alone,  while 
Richard  directed  the  driver  back  to  Raphael  Street. 
Returning  thus,  solitary,  he  endeavoured  to  define 
what  she  was  to  him,  and  he  to  her.  Often,  when 
actually  in  her  presence,  he  ventured  to  ask  himself, 
"Am  I  happy?  Is  this  pleasure?"  But  as  soon 
as  he  had  left  her,  his  doubtfulness  vanished,  and  he 
began  to  long  for  their  next  meeting.  Little  phrases 
of  hers,  unimportant  gestures,  came  back  vividly  to 


A  MAN  FROM  THE  NORTH        197 

his  memory;  he  thought  how  Instinct  with  charm 
they  were.  And  yet,  was  he  really,  truly  in  love? 
Was  she  In  love?  Had  there  been  a  growth  of 
feeling  since  that  night  at  Carteret  Street  after  the 
holiday  at  Littlehampton?  He  uncomfortably  sus- 
pected that  their  hearts  had  come  nearer  to  each 
other  that  night  than  at  any  time  since. 

He  tried  to  look  forward  to  the  moment  when 
he  should  Invite  her  to  be  his  wife.  But  was  that 
moment  approaching?  At  the  back  of  his  mind  lay 
an  apprehension  that  It  was  not.  She  satisfied  one 
part  of  his  nature.  She  was  the  very  spirit  of  grace ; 
she  was  full  of  aplomb  and  a  delicate  tact;  she  had 
money.  Moreover,  her  constant  reliance  upon  him, 
her  clinging  womanishness,  the  caressing,  humour- 
ing tone  which  her  voice  could  assume,  powerfully 
affected  him.  He  divined  darkly  that  he  was  clay 
in  her  hands;  that  all  the  future,  even  the  future  of 
his  own  heart,  depended  entirely  upon  her.  If  she 
chose,  she  might  be  his  goddess.  .  .  .  And  yet 
she  had  sharp  limitations. 

Again,  was  she  in  love? 

When  he  woke  up  of  a  morning  he  wondered  how 
long  his  present  happiness  would  continue,  and 
whither  It  was  leading  him.  A  scrap  of  conversation 
which  he  had  had  with  Adeline  recurred  to  him  fre- 
quently.    He  had  asked  her,   once  when  she  had 


198        A  MAN  FROM  THE  NORTH 

complained  of  ennui,  why  she  did  not  become  ac- 
quainted with  some  of  her  neighbours. 

"  I   don't  care   for  my  neighbours,"   she   replied 

curtly. 

"  But  you  can't  live  without  acquaintances  all  your 

life." 

"  No,  not  all  my  life,"  she  said  with  significant 

emphasis. 


CHAPTER  XXIII 

THEY  had  been  to  the  National  Gallery;  it 
was  Saturday  afternoon.  Adeline  said  that 
she  would  go  home;  but  Richard,  not  with- 
out a  little  trouble,  persuaded  her  to  dine  in  town 
first;  he  mentioned  a  French  restaurant  in  Soho. 

As  they  walked  up  Charing  Cross  Road,  he 
pointed  out  the  Crabtree,  and  referred  to  the  fact 
that  at  one  time  he  had  frequented  it  regularly.  She 
stopped  to  look  at  its  white-and-gold  frontage.  In 
enamel  letters  on  the  windows  were  the  words: 
"  Table  d'hote,  6  to  9,  1/6." 

"  Is  It  a  good  place?  "  she  asked. 
*'  The  best  In  London  —  of  that  kind." 
"Then  let  us  dine  there;  I  have  often  wanted  to 
try  a  vegetarian  restaurant." 

Richard  protested  that  she  would  not  like  It. 
"  How  do  you  know  ?     If  you  have  been  so  often, 
why  should  n't  I  go  once?  "     She  smiled  at  him,  and 
turned  to  cross  the  street;  he  hung  back. 
"  But  I  only  went  for  economy." 
"  Then  we  will  only  go  for  economy  to-day." 
He    dangled   before   her   the    attractions    of    the 

199 


200       A  MAN  FROM  THE  NORTH 

French  restaurant  in  Soho,  but  to  no  purpose.  He 
was  loth  to  visit  the  Crabtree.  Most  probably  Miss 
Roberts  would  be  on  duty  within,  and  he  felt  an  in- 
scrutable unwillingness  to  be  seen  by  her  with  Ade- 
line. ...  At  last  they  entered.  Looking 
through  the  glass  doors  which  lead  to  the  large,  low- 
ceiled  dining-room  on  the  first  floor,  Richard  saw 
that  it  was  nearly  empty,  and  that  the  cash-desk, 
where  Miss  Roberts  was  accustomed  to  sit,  was  for 
the  moment  unoccupied.  He  led  the  way  in  rather 
hurriedly,  and  selected  places  in  a  far  corner.  Al- 
though it  was  scarcely  beginning  to  be  dusk,  the 
table  electric  lights  were  turned  on,  and  their  red 
shades  made  ghmmering  islands  of  radiance  about 
the  room. 

Richard  kept  a  furtive  watch  on  the  cash-desk; 
presently  he  saw  Miss  Roberts  take  her  seat  behind 
It,  and  shifted  his  glance  to  another  quarter.  He 
was  preoccupied,  and  answered  at  random  Adeline's 
amused  queries  as  to  the  food.  Between  the  soup 
and  the  entree  they  were  kept  waiting;  and  Adeline, 
Richard  being  taciturn,  moved  her  chair  in  order  to 
look  round  the  room.  Her  roving  eyes  stopped  at 
the  cash-desk,  left  it,  and  returned  to  it.  Then  a 
scornful  smile,  albeit  scarcely  perceptible,  appeared 
on  her  face;  but  she  said  nothing.  Richard  saw  her 
glance  curiously  at  the  cash-desk  several  times,  and 


A  MAN  FROM  THE  NORTH        201 

he  knew,  too,  that  Miss  Roberts  had  discovered 
them.  In  vain  he  assured  himself  that  Miss  Rob- 
erts was  not  concerned  in  his  affairs;  he  could  not 
dismiss  a  sensation  of  uneasiness  and  discomfort. 
Once  he  fancied  that  the  eyes  of  the  two  girls  met, 
and  that  both  turned  away  suddenly. 

When  the  dinner  was  over,  and  they  were  drink- 
ing the  coffee  for  which  the  Crabtree  is  famous, 
Adehne  said  abruptly, — 

"  I  know  someone  here." 

"  Oh  I  "  said  Richard,  with  fictitious  nonchalance. 
"Who?" 

"  The  girl  at  the  pay-desk, —  Roberts,  her  name 
Is." 

"  Where  have  you  met  her?  "  he  inquired. 

Adeline  laughed  inimically.  He  was  startled,  al- 
most shocked,  by  the  harsh  mien  which  transformed 
her  face. 

"  You  remember  one  night,  just  before  uncle  died," 
she  began,  bending  towards  him,  and  talking  very 
quietly.  "  Someone  called  while  you  and  I  were  in 
the  sitting-room,  to  inquire  how  he  was.  That  was 
Laura  Roberts.  She  used  to  know  uncle  —  she 
lives  in  our  street.  He  made  love  to  her  —  she 
did  n't  care  for  him,  but  he  had  money  and  she  en- 
couraged him.  I  don't  know  how  far  it  went  —  I 
believe  I  stopped  it.     Oh!   men  are  the  strangest 


202        A  MAN  FROM  THE  NORTH 

creatures.  Fancy,  she 's  not  older  than  me,  and 
uncle  was  over  fifty!  " 

"  Older  than  you,  surely!  "  Richard  put  In. 

"  Well,  not  much.  She  knew  I  could  n't  bear  her, 
and  she  called  that  night  simply  to  annoy  me." 

"  What  makes  you  think  that?  " 

"  Think !  I  know  it.  .  .  .  But  you  must 
have  heard  of  the  affair.  Did  n't  they  talk  about  it 
at  your  office?  " 

"  I  believe  it  was  mentioned  once,"  he  said  has- 
tily. 

She  leaned  back  in  her  chair,  with  the  same  hard 
smile.  Richard  felt  sure  that  Miss  Roberts  had 
guessed  they  were  talking  about  herself,  and  that  her 
eyes  were  fixed  on  them,  but  he  dared  not  look  up 
for  confirmation;  Adeline  gazed  boldly  around  her. 
They  were  antagonistic,  these  two  women,  and 
Richard,  do  what  he  would,  could  not  repress  a  cer- 
tain sympathy  with  Miss  Roberts.  If  she  had  en- 
couraged Mr.  Aked's  advances,  what  of  that?  It 
was  no  mortal  sin,  and  he  could  not  appreciate  the 
reason  of  Adeline's  strenuous  contempt  for  her.  He 
saw  a  little  gulf  widening  between  himself  and  Ade- 
Hne. 

"  What  tremendously  red  hair  that  girl  has !  "  she 
said,  later  on. 

"  Yes,  but  does  n't  it  look  fine !  " 


A  MAN  FROM  THE  NORTH        203 

*'  Ye-es,"  Adeline  agreed  condescendingly. 

When  he  paid  the  bill,  on  the  way  out,  Miss 
Roberts  greeted  him  with  an  inclination  of  the  head. 
He  met  her  eye  steadily,  and  tried  not  to  blush. 
As  she  checked  the  bill  with  a  tapping  pencil,  he 
could  not  help  remarking  her  face.  Amiability, 
candour,  honesty,  were  clearly  written  on  its  attrac- 
tive plainness.  He  did  not  believe  that  she  had 
been  guilty  of  running  after  Mr.  Aked  for  the  sake 
of  his  money.  The  tales  told  by  Jenkins  were 
doubtless  Ingeniously  exaggerated;  and  as  for  Ade- 
line, Adeline  was  mistaken. 

"  Good  evening,"  Miss  Roberts  said  simply,  as 
they  went  out.     He  raised  his  hat, 

"  You  know  her,  then !  "  Adeline  exclaimed  in  the 
street. 

"  Well,"  he  answered,  "  I  Ve  been  going  there, 
off  and  on,  for  a  year  or  two,  and  one  gets  acquainted 
with  the  girls."  His  tone  was  rather  petulant. 
With  a  quick,  winning  smile,  she  changed  the  sub- 
ject, and  he  suspected  her  of  being  artful. 


CHAPTER  XXIV 

/  /  IF    AM  going  to  America,"  she  said. 

I  They  sat  in  the  sitting-room  at  Carte- 

JL  ret  street.  Richard  had  not  seen  her 
since  the  dinner  at  the  vegetarian  restaurant,  and  these 
were  almost  the  first  words  she  addressed  to  him. 
Her  voice  was  as  tranquil  as  usual;  but  he  discerned, 
or  thought  he  discerned,  in  her  manner  a  conscious- 
ness that  she  was  guilty  towards  him,  that  at  least 
she  was  not  treating  him  justly. 

The  blow  was  like  that  of  a  bullet :  he  did  not  im- 
mediately feel  it. 

"Really?"  he  questioned  foolishly,  and  then, 
though  he  knew  that  she  would  never  return: 
"  For  how  long  are  you  going,  and  how  soon?  " 

"  Very  soon,   because   I   always   do  things   in  a 

hurry.     I  don't  know  for  how  long.     It 's  indefinite. 

I  have  had  a  letter  from  my  uncles  in  San  Francisco, 

and  they  say  I  must  join  them;  they  can't  do  without 

me.     They  are  making  a  lot  of  money  now,   and 

neither  of  them  is  married.     ...     So  I  suppose 

I  must  obey  like  a  good  girl.     You  see  I  have  no 

relatives  here,  except  Aunt  Grace." 

204 


A  MAN  FROM  THE  NORTH        205 

"  You  many  never  come  back  to  England?  " 
(Did  she  colour,  or  was  it  Richard's  fancy?) 
"  Well,  I  expect  I  may  visit  Europe  sometimes. 
It  would  n't  do  to  give  England  up  entirely.    There 
are  so  many  nice  things  in  England, —  in  London 
especially     .     .     ." 

Once,  in  late  boyhood,  he  had  sat  for  an  exam- 
ination which  he  felt  confident  of  passing.  When 
the  announcement  arrived  that  he  failed,  he  could 
not  believe  it,  though  all  the  time  he  knew  it  to  be 
true.  His  thoughts  ran  monotonously:  "There 
must  be  some  mistake;  there  must  be  some  mis- 
take !  "  and  like  a  little  child  in  the  night,  he  reso- 
lutely shut  his  eyes  to  keep  out  the  darkness  of  the 
future.  The  same  puerility  marked  him  now.  As- 
suming that  Adeline  fulfilled  her  intention,  his  exist- 
ence in  London  promised  to  be  tragically  cheerless. 
But  this  gave  him  no  immediate  concern,  because  he 
refused  to  contemplate  the  possibility  of  their  inti- 
macy being  severed.  He  had,  indeed,  ceased  to 
think;  somewhere  at  the  back  of  the  brain  his 
thoughts  lay  in  wait  for  him.  For  the  next  two 
hours  (until  he  left  the  house)  he  lived  mechanic- 
ally, as  it  were,  and  not  by  volition,  subsisting  merely 
on  a  previously  acquired  momentum. 

He  sat  in  front  of  her  and  listened.  She  began 
to  talk  of  her,,  uncles   Mark   and  Luke.     She   de- 


2o6        A  MAN  FROM  THE  NORTH 

scribed  them  in  detail,  told  stories  of  her  childhood, 
even  recounted  the  common  incidents  of  her  daily 
life  with  them.  She  dwelt  on  their  kindness  of 
heart,  and  their  affection  for  herself;  and  with  it  all 
she  seemed  a  little  to  patronise  them,  as  though  she 
had  been  accustomed  to  regard  them  as  her  slaves. 

"  They  are  rather  old-fashioned,"  she  said,  "  un- 
less they  have  altered.  Since  I  heard  from  them,  I 
have  been  wondering  what  they  would  think  about 
my  going  to  theatres  and  so  on  —  with  you." 

"What  should  they  think?"  Richard  broke  in. 
"  There  's  nothing  whatever  in  that.  London  Is  n't 
a  provincial  town,  or  even  an  American  city." 

"  I  shall  tell  them  all  about  you,"  she  went  on, 
"  and  how  kind  you  were  to  me  when  I  scarcely  knew 
you  at  all.  You  could  n't  have  been  kinder  if  you  'd 
been  my  only  cousin." 

"  Say  '  brother,'  "  he  laughed  awkwardly. 

"  No,  really,  I  'm  quite  serious.  I  never  thanked 
you  properly.  Perhaps  I  seemed  to  take  it  all  as  a 
matter  of  course." 

He  wished  to  heaven  she  would  stop. 

"  I  'm  disgusted  that  you  are  going,"  he  grum- 
bled, putting  his  hands  behind  his  head, — "  dis- 
gusted." 

"  In  many  ways  I  am  sorry  too.  But  don't  you 
think  I  am  doing  the  right  thing?" 


A  MAN  FROM  THE  NORTH        207 

"  How  am  I  to  tell?  "  he  returned  quickly.  "  All 
I  know  is  that  when  you  go  I  shall  be  left  all  alone  by 
my  little  self.  You  must  think  of  me  sometimes  In 
my  lonely  garret."  His  tone  was  light  and  whimsi- 
cal, but  she  would  not  follow  his  lead. 

*'  I  shall  often  think  of  you,"  she  said  musingly, 
scanning  intently  the  toe  of  her  shoe. 

It  seemed  to  him  that  she  desired  to  say  some- 
thing serious,  to  justify  herself  to  him,  but  could  not 
gather  courage  to  frame  the  words. 

When  he  got  out  of  the  house,  his  thoughts  sprang 
forth.  It  was  a  chilly  night;  he  turned  up  the  col- 
lar of  his  overcoat,  plunged  his  hands  deep  Into  the 
pockets,  and  began  to  walk  hurriedly,  heedlessly, 
while  examining  his  feelings  with  curious  delibera- 
tion. In  the  first  place,  he  was  Inexpressibly  an- 
noyed. "  Annoyed," — ■  that  was  the  right  word. 
He  could  not  say  that  he  loved  her  deeply,  or  that 
there  was  a  prospect  of  his  loving  her  deeply,  but 
she  had  become  a  delightful  factor  In  his  life,  and 
he  had  grown  used  to  counting  upon  her  for  society. 
Might  he  not,  In  time,  conceivably  have  asked  her  to 
marry  him?  Might  she  not  conceivably  have  con- 
sented? In  certain  directions  she  had  disappointed 
him;  beyond  doubt  her  spiritual  narrowness  had 
checked  the  growth  of  a  passion  which  he  had  sedu- 
lously cherished  and  fostered  In  himself.     Yet,   in 


2o8        A  MAN  FROM  THE  NORTH 

spite  of  that,  her  feminine  grace,  her  feminine 
trustfulness,  still  exercised  a  strong  and  delicate 
charm.  She  was  a  woman  and  he  was  a  man,  and 
each  was  the  only  friend  the  other  had;  and  now  she 
was  going  away.  The  mere  fact  that  she  found  a 
future  with  her  uncles  in  America  more  attractive 
than  the  life  she  was  then  leading,  cruelly  wounded 
his  self-love.  He,  then,  was  nothing  to  her,  after 
all;  he  had  made  no  impression;  she  could  relinquish 
him  without  regret  I  At  that  moment  she  seemed 
above  and  beyond  him.  He  was  the  poor  earthUng; 
she  the  winged  creature  that  soared  in  freedom  now 
here,  now  there,  giving  her  favours  lightly,  and  as 
lightly  withdrawing  them. 

One  thing  came  out  clear:  he  was  an  unlucky  fel- 
low. 

■>  He  ran  over  in  his  mind  the  people  who  would 
remain  to  him  in  London  when  she  had  gone. 
Jenkins,  Miss  Roberts  —  Bah !  how  sickeningly 
commonplace  were  they!  She  was  distinguished. 
She  had  an  air,  a  je  ne  sais  quoi,  which  he  had  never 
observed  in  a  woman  before.  He  recalled  her 
gowns,  her  gestures,  her  turns  of  speech, —  all  the 
Instinctive  touches  by  which  she  proved  her  su- 
periority. 

It  occurred  to  him   fancifully  that  there  was  a 
connection  between  her  apparently  sudden  resolve 


A  MAN  FROM  THE  NORTH        209 

to  leave  England,  and  their  visit  to  the  Crabtree 
and  encounter  with  Miss  Roberts.  He  tried  to  see 
in  that  incident  a  premonition  of  misfortune.  What 
morbid  fatuity! 

Before  he  went  to  sleep  that  night  he  resolved 
that  at  their  next  meeting  he  would  lead  the  conver- 
sation to  a  frank  discussion  of  their  relations  and 
"  have  it  out  with  her."  But  when  he  called  at  Car- 
teret Street  two  days  later,  he  found  It  quite  impos- 
sible to  do  any  such  thing.  She  was  light-hearted 
and  gay,  and  evidently  looked  forward  to  the 
change  of  life  with  pleasure.  She  named  the  day  of 
departure,  and  mentioned  that  she  had  arranged  to 
take  Lottie  with  her.  She  consulted  him  about  a 
compromise,  already  effected,  with  her  landlord  as 
to  the  remainder  of  the  tenancy,  and  said  she  had 
sold  the  furniture  as  it  stood,  for  a  very  small  sum, 
to  a  dealer.  It  hurt  him  to  think  that  she  had  given 
him  no  opportunity  of  actively  assisting  her  in  the 
hundred  little  matters  of  business  involved  in  a 
change  of  hemisphere.  What  had  become  of  her 
feminine  reliance  upon  him? 

He  felt  as  if  some  object  was  rapidly  approach- 
ing to  collide  with  and  crush  him,  and  he  was  power- 
less to  hinder  it. 

Three  days,  two  days,  one  day  more  I 


CHAPTER  XXV 

THE  special  train  for  Southampton,  drawn  up 
against  the  main-line  platform  at  Waterloo, 
seemed  to  have  resigned  itself  with  an  al- 
most animal  passivity  to  the  onslaught  of  the  crowd 
of  well-dressed  men  and  women  who  were  boarding 
it.  From  the  engine  a  thin  column  of  steam  rose 
lazily  to  the  angular  roof,  where  a  few  sparrows 
fluttered  with  sudden  swoops  and  short  flights.  The 
engine-driver  leaned  against  the  side  of  the  cab, 
stroking  his  beard;  the  stoker  was  trimming  coal  on 
the  tender.  Those  two  knew  the  spectacle  by  heart : 
the  scattered  piles  of  steamer  trunks  amidst  which 
passengers  hurried  hither  and  thither  with  no  appar- 
ent object;  the  continual  purposeless  opening  and 
shutting  of  carriage  doors;  the  deferential  gestures 
of  the  glittering  guard  as  he  bent  an  ear  to  ladies 
whose  footmen  stood  respectfully  behind  them;  the 
swift  movements  of  the  book-stall  clerk  selling  pa- 
pers, and  the  meditative  look  of  the  bookstall  man- 
ager as  he  swept  his  hand  along  the  shelf  of  new 
novels  and  selected  a  volume  which  he  could  thor- 
oughly recommend  to  the  customer  in  the  fur  coat; 

210 


A  MAN  FROM  THE  NORTH        211 

the  long  colloquies  between  husbands  and  wives,  sons 
and  mothers,  daughters  and  fathers,  fathers  and 
sons,  lovers  and  lovers,  punctuated  sometimes  by  the 
fluttering  of  a  handkerchief,  or  the  placing  of  a  hand 
on  a  shoulder;  the  unconcealed  agitation  of  most 
and  the  carefully  studied  calm  of  a  few;  the  grimaces 
of  porters  when  passengers  had  turned  away;  the 
slow  absorption  by  their  train  of  all  the  luggage  and 
nearly  all  the  people;  the  creeping  of  the  clock  to- 
wards the  hour;  the  kisses;  the  tears;  the  lowering  of 
the  signal, —  to  them  it  was  no  more  than  a  common 
street-scene. 

Richard,  having  obtained  leave  from  the  office, 
arrived  at  a  quarter  to  twelve.  He  peered  up  and 
down.  Could  it  be  that  she  was  really  going?  Not 
even  yet  had  he  grown  accustomed  to  the  idea,  and 
at  times  he  still  said  to  himself,  "  It  is  n't  really  true; 
there  must  be  some  mistake."  The  moment  of  sep- 
aration, now  that  it  was  at  hand,  he  accused  of  hav- 
ing approached  sneakingly  to  take  him  unawares. 
He  was  conscious  of  no  great  emotion,  such  as  his 
esthetic  sense  of  fitness  might  have  led  him  to  ex- 
pect,—  nothing  but  a  dull  joylessness,  the  drab,  neg- 
ative sensations  of  a  convict  foretasting  a  sentence  of 
years. 

There  she  stood,  by  the  bookstall,  engaged  in 
lively  talk  with   the   clerk,   while   other   customers 


212       A  MAN  FROM  THE  NORTH 

waited.  Lottie  was  beside  her,  holding  a  bag.  The 
previous  night  they  had  slept  at  Morley's  Hotel. 

"  Everything  Is  all  right,  I  hope?  "  he  said,  eyeing 
her  narrowly,  and  feeling  extremely  sentimental. 

"  Yes,  thank  you.  .  .  .  Lottie,  you  must  go 
and  keep  watch  over  our  seats.  .  .  .  Well," 
she  went  on  briskly,  when  they  were  left  alone,  "  I 
am  actually  going.  I  feel  somehow  as  If  It  can't  be 
true." 

"  Why,  that  Is  exactly  how  I  have  felt  for  days  1  " 
he  answered,  allowing  his  voice  to  languish,  and 
then  fell  Into  silence.  He  assiduously  coaxed  him- 
self into  a  mood  of  resigned  melancholy.  With 
sidelong  glances,  as  they  walked  quietly  down  the 
platform,  he  scanned  her  face,  decided  It  was  divine, 
and  dwelt  lovingly  on  the  thought :  "  I  shall  never 
see  It  again." 

"  A  dull  day  for  you  to  start  I  "  he  murmured,  in 
tones  of  gentle  concern. 

*'  Yes,  and  do  you  know,  a  gentleman  In  the  hotel 
told  me  we  should  be  certain  to  have  bad  weather, 
and  that  made  me  so  dreadfully  afraid  that  I  nearly 
resolved  to  stay  In  England."     She  laughed. 

"  Ah,  If  you  would!  "  he  had  half  a  mind  to  ex- 
claim, but  just  then  he  became  aware  of  his  affecta- 
tion and  trampled  on  It.  The  conversation  pro- 
ceeded naturally  to  the  subject  of  seasickness  and  the 


A  MAN  FROM  THE  NORTH       213 

little  joys  and  perils  of  the  voyage.  Strange  topics 
for  a  man  and  a  woman  about  to  be  separated,  prob- 
ably for  ever!  And  yet  Richard,  for  his  part,  could 
think  of  none  more  urgent. 

"  I  had  better  get  in  now,  had  I  not?  "  she  said. 
The  clock  stood  at  five  minutes  to  noon.  Her  face 
was  sweetly  serious  as  she  raised  it  to  his,  holding 
out  her  hand. 

"  Take  care  of  yourself,"  was  his  fatuous  part- 
ing admonition. 

Her  hand  rested  in  his  own,  and  he  felt  it  tighten. 
Beneath  the  veil  the  colour  deepened  a  little  in  her 
rosy  cheeks. 

"  I  did  n't  tell  you,"  she  said  abruptly,  "  that  my 
uncles  had  begged  me  to  go  to  them  weeks  and  weeks 
ago.  I  did  n't  tell  you  —  and  I  put  them  off  —  be- 
cause I  thought  I  would  wait  and  see  if  you  and  I  — 
cared  for  each  other." 

It  had  come,  the  explanation!  He  blushed  red, 
and  stuck  tc  her  hand.  The  atmosphere  was  sud- 
denly electric.  The  station  and  the  crowd  were 
blotted  out. 

"You  understand?"  she  questioned,  smiling 
bravely. 

"  Yes." 

He  was  dimly  conscious  of  having  shaken  hands 
with  Lottie,  of  the  banging  of  many  doors,  of  Ade- 


214        A  MAN  FROM  THE  NORTH 

line's  face  framed  in  a  receding  window.  Then  the 
rails  were  visible  beside  the  platform,  and  he  had 
glimpses  of  people  hurriedly  getting  out  of  the  train 
at  the  platform  opposite.  In  the  distance  the  signal 
clattered  to  the  horizontal.  He  turned  round,  and 
saw  only  porters,  and  a  few  forlorn  friends  of  the 
voyagers ;  one  woman  was  crying. 

Instead  of  going  home  from  the  office,  he  ram- 
bled about  the  thoroughfares  which  converge  at  Pic- 
cadilly Circus,  basking  in  the  night-glare  of  the  City 
of  Pleasure.  He  had  four  pounds  In  his  pocket. 
The  streets  were  thronged  with  swiftly  rolling  ve- 
hicles. Restaurants  and  theatres  and  music  halls,  in 
evening  array,  offered  their  gorgeous  enticements, 
and  at  last  he  entered  the  Cafe  Royal,  and,  ordering 
an  elaborate  dinner,  ate  it  slowly,  with  thoughtful 
enjoyment.  When  he  had  finished,  he  asked  the 
waiter  to  bring  a  "  Figaro."  But  there  appeared  to 
be  nothing  of  interest  In  that  day's  "  Figaro,"  and  he 
laid  it  down.  .  .  .  The  ship  had  sailed  by  this 
time.  Had  Adeline  really  m.ade  that  confession  to 
him  just  before  the  train  started,  or  was  It  a  fancy 
of  his?  There  was  something  fine  about  her  dis- 
concerting frankness  .  .  .  fine,  fine. 
And  the  simplicity  of  it!  He  had  let  slip  a  treasure. 
Because  she  lacked  artistic  sympathies,   he  had  de- 


A  MAN  FROM  THE  NORTH        215 

spised  her,  or  at  best  underestimated  her.  And 
once  —  to  think  of  it !  —  he  had  nearly  loved  her. 
With  what  astonishing  rapidity  their  In- 
timacy had  waxed,  drooped,  and  come  to  sudden 
death!  .  .  .  Love,  what  was  love?  Perhaps 
he  loved  her  now,  after  all     .     .     . 

"Waiter!"  He  beckoned  with  a  quaint  move- 
ment of  his  forefinger  which  brought  a  smile  to  the 
man's  face  —  a  smile  which  Richard  answered  jovi- 
ally. 

"Sir?" 

"  A  shilling  cigar,  please,  and  a  coffee  and  cog- 
nac." 

At  about  nine  o'clock  he  went  out  again  Into  the 
chill  air,  and  the  cigar  burnt  brightly  between  his 
lips.  He  had  unceremoniously  dismissed  the  too 
Importunate  Image  of  Adeline,  and  he  was  conscious 
of  a  certain  devil-may-care  elation. 

Women  were  everywhere  on  the  pavements. 
They  lifted  their  silk  skirts  out  of  the  mud,  reveal- 
ing ankles  and  lace  petticoats.  They  smiled  on  him. 
They  lured  him  in  foreign  tongues  and  in  broken 
English.  He  broadly  winked  at  some  of  the  more 
youthful  ones,  and  they  followed  him  Importunately, 
only  to  be  shaken  off  with  a  laugh.  As  he  walked, 
he  whistled  or  sang  all  the  time.  He  was  cut  adrift, 
he  explained  to  himself,  and  through  no  fault  of  his 


21 6        A  MAN  FROM  THE  NORTH 

own.  His  sole  friend  had  left  him  (much  she 
cared!),  and  there  was  none  to  whom  he  owed  the 
slightest  consideration.  He  was  at  liberty  to  do 
what  he  liked,  without  having  to  consider  first, 
"What  would  she  think  of  this?"  Moreover,  he 
must  discover  solace,  poor  blighted  creature !  Look- 
ing down  a  side  street,  he  saw  a  man  talking  to  a 
woman.  He  went  past  them,  and  heard  what  they 
said.  Then  he  was  in  Shaftesbury  Avenue.  Curi- 
ous sensations  fluttered  through  his  frame.  With 
an  insignificant  oath,  he  nerved  himself  to  a  resolve. 

Several  times  he  was  on  the  very  point  of  carry- 
ing It  out  when  his  courage  failed.  He  traversed 
the  Circus,  got  as  far  as  St.  James's  Hall,  and  re- 
turned upon  his  steps.  In  a  minute  he  was  on  the 
north  side  of  Coventry  Street.  He  looked  into  the 
faces  of  all  the  women,  but  In  each  he  found  some- 
thing to  repel,  to  fear. 

Would  it  end  in  his  going  quietly  home?  He 
crossed  over  into  the  seclusion  of  Whitcomb  Street 
to  argue  the  matter.  As  he  was  passing  the  entry 
to  a  court,  a  woman  came  out,  and  both  had  to  draw 
back  to  avoid  a  collision. 

*^  Chert! "  she  murmured.  She  was  no  longer 
young,  but  her  broad,  Flemish  face  showed  kindli- 
ness and  good  humour  In  every  feature  of  it,  and  her 
voice  was  soft.     He  did  not  answer,  and  she  spoke 


A  MAN  FROM  THE  NORTH        217 

to  him  again.  His  spine  assumed  the  consistency  of 
butter;  a  shuddering  thrill  ran  through  him.  She 
put  her  arm  gently  into  his,  and  pressed  It.  He  had 
no  resistance.     .     .     , 


CHAPTER  XXVI 

IT  was  the  morning  of  Boxing  Day,  frosty,  with 
a  sky  of  steel  grey;  the  streets  were  resonant 
under  the  traffic. 
Richard  had  long  been  anticipating  the  advent  of 
the  New  Year,  when  new  resolutions  were  to  come 
into  force.  A  phrase  from  a  sermon  heard  at  Burs- 
ley  stuck  in  his  memory :  Every  day  begins  a  new 
year.  But  he  could  not  summon  the  swift,  coura- 
geous decision  necessary  to  act  upon  that  adage.  For 
a  whole  year  he  had  been  slowly  subsiding  into  a  bog 
of  lethargy,  and  to  extricate  himself  would,  he  felt, 
need  an  amount  of  exertion  which  he  could  not  put 
forth  unless  fortified  by  all  the  associations  of  the 
season  for  such  feats,  and  by  the  knowledge  that  fel- 
low-creatures were  bracing  themselves  for  a  similar 
difficult  wrench. 

Now  that  he  looked  back  upon  them,  the  fourteen 
months  which  had  elapsed  since  Adeline's  departure 
seemed  to  have  succeeded  one  another  with  marvel- 
lous rapidity.  At  first  he  had  chafed  under  the  loss 
of  her,  and  then  gradually  and  naturally  he  had 
grown  used  to  her  absence.     She  wrote  to  him,   a 

218 


A  MAN  FROM  THE  NORTH        219 

rather  long  letter,  full  of  details  about  the  voyage 
and  the  train  journey  and  her  uncles'  home;  he  had 
opened  the  envelope  half  expecting  that  the  letter 
might  affect  him  deeply;  but  it  did  not;  it  struck  him 
as  a  distinctly  mediocre  communication.  He  sent  a 
reply,  and  the  correspondence  ended.  He  did  not 
love  her,  probably  never  had  loved  her.  A  little 
sentiment:  that  was  all.  The  affair  was  quite  over. 
If  it  had  been  perhaps  unsatisfactory,  the  fault  was 
not  his.  A  man,  he  reflected,  cannot  by  taking 
thought  fall  in  love  (and  yet  this  was  exactly  what  he 
had  attempted  to  do!),  and  that  in  any  case  Adeline 
would  not  have  suited  him.  Still,  at  moments  when 
he  recalled  her  face  and  gestures,  her  exquisite  fem- 
inality,  and  especially  her  fine  candour  at  their  part- 
ing, he  grew  melancholy  and  luxuriously  pitied  him- 
self. 

At  the  commencement  of  the  year  which  was  now 
drawing  to  a  close  he  had  attacked  the  art  of  liter- 
ature anew,  and  had  compassed  several  articles;  but 
as  one  by  one  they  suffered  rejection,  his  energy  had 
dwindled,  and  in  a  short  time  he  had  again  entirely 
ceased  to  write.  Nor  did  he  pursue  any  ordered 
course  of  study.  He  began  upon  a  number  of  Eng- 
lish classics,  finishing  few  of  them,  and  continued  to 
consume  French  novels  with  eagerness.  Sometimes 
the  French  work,   by   its   neat,   severe   effectiveness, 


220        A  MAN  FROM  THE  NORTH 

would  stir  in  him  a  vague  desire  to  do  likewise,  but  no 
serious  sustained  effort  was  made. 

In  the  spring,  when  loneliness  is  peculiarly  weari- 
some, he  had  joined  a  hterary  and  scientific  institu- 
tion, for  young  men  only,  upon  whose  premises  it  was 
forbidden  either  to  drink  intoxicants  or  to  smoke 
tobacco.  He  paid  a  year's  subscription,  and  in  less 
than  a  fortnight  loathed  not  only  the  institution  but 
every  separate  member  and  official  of  it.  Then  he 
thought  of  transplanting  himself  to  the  suburbs,  but 
the  trouble  of  moving  the  library  of  books  which  by 
this  time  he  had  accumulated  deterred  him,  as  well 
as  a  lazy  aversion  for  the  discomforts  which  a  change 
would  certainly  involve. 

And  so  he  had  sunk  into  a  sort  of  coma.  His 
chief  task  was  to  kill  time.  Eight  hours  were  due 
to  the  office  and  eight  to  sleep,  and  eight  others  re- 
mained to  be  disposed  of  daily.  In  the  morning  he 
rose  late,  retarding  his  breakfast  hour,  diligently 
read  the  newspaper,  and  took  the  Park  on  the  way  to 
business.  In  the  evening,  as  six  o'clock  approached, 
he  no  longer  hurried  his  work  In  order  to  be  ready 
to  leave  the  office  immediately  the  clock  struck.  On 
the  contrary,  he  often  stayed  after  hours  when  there 
was  no  necessity  to  stay,  either  leisurely  examining 
his  accounts,  or  gossiping  with  Jenkins  or  one  of  the 
older  clerks.     He  watched  the  firm's  welfare  with 


A  MAN  FROM  THE  NORTH        221 

a  jealous  eye,  offered  suggestions  to  Mr.  Curpet 
v/hich  not  seldom  were  accepted,  and  grew  to  be  re- 
garded as  exceptionally  capable  and  trustworthy. 
He  could  divine  now  and  then  in  the  tone  or  the  look 
of  the  principals  (who  were  niggardly  with  praise) 
an  implicit  trust,  mingled  —  at  any  rate,  in  the  case 
of  the  senior  partner  —  with  a  certain  respect.  He 
grew  more  sedate  in  manner,  and  to  the  office  boys, 
over  whom  he  had  charge,  he  was  even  forbidding; 
they  disliked  him,  finding  him  a  martinet  more  strict 
and  less  suave  than  Mr.  Curpet  himself.  He  kept 
them  late  at  night  sometimes  without  quite  sufficient 
cause,  and  if  they  showed  dissatisfaction,  told  them 
sententiously  that  boys  who  were  so  desperately  anx- 
ious to  do  as  little  as  they  could  would  never  get  on 
in  the  world. 

Upon  leaving  the  office  he  would  stroll  slowly 
through  Booksellers'  Row  and  up  the  Strand,  with 
the  gait  of  a  man  whose  time  is  entirely  his  own. 
Once  or  twice  a  week  he  dined  at  one  of  the  foreign 
restaurants  In  Soho,  prolonging  the  meal  to  an  un- 
conscionable length,  and  repairing  afterwards  to 
some  lounge  for  a  cigar  and  a  liqueur.  He  paid 
particular  attention  to  his  dress,  enjoying  the  sensa- 
tion of  wearing  good  clothes,  and  fell  into  a  habit  of 
comparing  his  personal  appearance  with  that  of  the 
men  whom  he  rubbed  shoulders  with  in  fashionable 


222        A  MAN  FROM  THE  NORTH 

cafes  and  bars.  His  salary  sufficed  for  these  petty 
extravagances,  since  he  was  still  living  inexpensively 
in  one  room  at  Raphael  Street;  but  besides  what  he 
earned,  his  resources  included  the  sum  received  from 
the  estate  of  William  Vernon.  Seventy  pounds  of 
this  had  melted  in  festivities  with  Adeline,  two  hun- 
dred pounds  was  lent  upon  mortgage  under  Mr.  Cur- 
pet's  guidance,  and  the  other  fifty  was  kept  in  hand, 
being  broken  Into  as  infrequent  occasion  demanded. 
The  mortgage  investment  did  much  to  heighten  his 
status  not  only  with  the  staff  but  with  his  principals. 
Seated  in  a  wine-room  or  lager-beer  hall,  medi- 
tatively sipping  from  glass  or  tankard,  and  savouring 
a  fragrant  cigar,  he  contrived  to  extract  a  certain 
pleasure  from  the  contemplation  of  his  equality  with 
the  men  around  him.  Many  of  them,  he  guessed 
with  satisfaction,  were  in  a  worse  or  a  less  secure  po- 
sition than  his  own.  He  studied  faces  and  made  a 
practice  of  entering  into  conversation  with  strangers, 
and  these  chance  encounters  almost  invariably  left 
him  with  the  impression  that  he  had  met  a  mental 
inferior.  Steeping  himself,  as  it  were,  in  all  the 
frivolous,  lusory  activities  of  the  West  End,  he  began 
to  acquire  that  indefinable,  unmistakable  air  of 
savoir-faire  characteristic  of  the  prosperous  clerk 
who  spends  his  leisure  in  public  places.  People 
from  the  country  frequently  mistook  him  for  the 


A  MAN  FROM  THE  NORTH        223 

young  man-about-town  of  the  society  papers,  familiar 
with  every  form  of  metropolitan  chicane,  luxury,  and 
vice. 

After  breakfast  he  went  out  into  the  Park  with 
his  skates.  The  Serpentine  had  been  frozen  hard 
for  more  than  a  week,  and  yesterday,  a  solitary  unit 
in  tens  of  thousands,  he  had  celebrated  Christmas 
on  the  ice,  skating  from  noon  till  nearly  midnight, 
with  brief  intervals  for  meals.  The  exercise  and  the 
fresh  air  had  invigorated  and  enlivened  him,  and  this 
morning,  as  he  plunged  once  more  into  the  loose 
throng  of  skaters,  his  spirits  were  buoyant.  It  had 
been  his  intention  to  pass  yet  another  day  on  the  Ser- 
pentine; but  a  sudden,  surprising  fancy  entered  his 
head,  flitted  away,  and  returned  again  and  again 
with  such  an  increasing  allurement  that  he  fell  in 
love  with  it:  Why  not  commence  to  write  now? 
Why,  after  all,  leave  the  new  beginning  till  the  New 
Year?  Was  it  true  —  what  he  had  mournfully 
taken  for  granted  for  a  month  past,  and  so  lately  as 
an  hour  ago  —  that  he  lacked  the  moral  strength  to 
carry  a  good  resolution  into  effect  at  any  time  he 
chose?  ...  In  a  moment,  he  had  sworn  to 
work  four  hours  before  he  slept  that  night. 

The  decision  reached,  his  humour  became  une- 
quivocally   gay.     He    shot    forward    with    longer, 


2  2  4 


A  MAN  FROM  THE  NORTH 


bolder  strokes,  enjoying  with  a  keener  zest  the  swift 
motion  and  the  strange  black-and-white,  sylvan-ur- 
ban scene  about  him.     He  forgot  the  year  of  idle- 
ness   which    lay    immediately    behind    him,    forgot 
every  previous  failure,  in  the  passionate  exultation 
of  his  new  resolve.     He  whistled.     He  sang.     He 
attempted  impossible  figures,  and  only  laughed  when 
they  ended  in  a   fall.     A  woman,   skating  alone, 
stumbled  to  her  knees;  he  glided  towards  her,  lifted 
her  lightly,  raised  his  hat,  and  was  gone  before  she 
could  thank  him:  it  was  neatly  done;  he  felt  proud 
of  himself.     As  the  clock  struck  twelve  he  took  off 
his  skates,  and  walked  in  a  quiet  corner  of  the  Park, 
deliberating  intently  upon  the  plot  of  a  story,  which 
fortunately  had  been  in  his  mind  for  several  months. 
When  he  came  in  to  dinner,  he  gave  Lily  five 
shillings  for  a  Christmas  box,  almost  without  think- 
ing, and  though  he  had  no  previous  intention  of  do- 
ing so;  and  inquired  when  she  was  to  be  married. 
He  ordered  tea  for  four  o'clock,  so  that  the  evening 
might  be  long.     In  the  afternoon  he  read  and  dozed. 
At   a   quarter  to  five   the  tea-things  were   cleared 
away,    the   lamp,  was   burning  brightly,   the   blinds 
drawn,   and  his  writing-materials   arranged  on   the 
table.     He  lit  a  pipe  and  sat  down  by  the  fire.     At 
last,  at  last,  the  old,  long-abandoned  endeavours  were 
about  to  be  resumed  1 


A  MAN  FROM  THE  NORTH        225 

The  story  which  he  was  going  to  write  was  called 
"  Tiddy-fol-lol."  The  leading  character  was  an  old 
smith,  to  be  named  Dow-ns,  employed  in  the  forge 
of  a  large  iron  foundry  at  Bursley.  Downs  was  a 
Primitive  Methodist  of  the  narrowest  type,  and 
when  his  daughter  fell  in  love  with  and  married  a 
sceneshifter  at  the  local  theatre,  she  received  for 
dowry  a  father's  curse.  Once,  in  the  foundry, 
Downs  in  speaking  of  the  matter  had  referred  to  his 
daughter  as  no  better  than  a  "  Tiddy-fol-lol,"  and 
for  years  afterwards  a  favourite  sport  of  the  ap- 
prentice boys  was  to  run  after  him,  at  a  safe  dis- 
tance, calling  "Tiddy-fol-lol,  Tiddy-fol-lol."  The 
daughter,  completely  estranged  from  her  parent, 
died  in  giving  birth  to  a  son  who  grew  up  physically 
strong  and  healthy,  but  half  an  idiot.  At  the  age  of 
twelve,  quite  ignorant  of  his  grandfather's  identity, 
he  was  sent  by  his  father  to  work  at  the  foundry. 
The  other  lads  saw  a  chance  for  fun.  Pointing  out 
Downs  to  him  in  the  forge,  they  told  him  to  go 
close  to  the  man  and  say  "  Tiddy-fol-lol."  "  What 
dost  thee  want?"  Downs  questioned  gruffly,  when 
the  boy  stood  before  him  with  a  vacant  grin  on  his 
face.  "  Tiddy-fol-lol,"  came  the  response.  In  the 
aggravating,  uninflected  tones  peculiar  to  an  imbe- 
cile. Downs  raised  his  tremendous  arm  In  a  flash 
of  anger,  and  felled  the  youngster  with  a  blow  on 


226        A  MAN  FROM  THE  NORTH 

the  side  of  the  head.  Then  he  bade  him  rise.  But 
the  child,  caught  just  under  the  ear,  had  been  struck 
dead.  Downs  was  tried  for  manslaughter,  pro- 
nounced insane,  and  subsequently  released  as  a  harm- 
less lunatic.  The  Salvation  Army  took  charge  of 
him,  and  he  lived  by  selling  "  War-Cries  "  in  the 
streets,  still  pursued  by  boys  who  shouted  "  Tiddy- 
fol-lol." 

Properly  elaborated,  Richard  opined,  such  a  plot 
would  make  a  powerful  story.  In  his  brain  the 
tlhing  was  already  complete.  The  one  difficulty  lay 
in  the  selection  of  a  strong  opening  scene ;  that  done, 
he  was  sure  the  incidents  of  the  tale  would  fall 
naturally  into  place.  He  began  to  cogitate,  but  his 
thoughts  went  wool-gathering  most  pertinaciously, 
though  time  after  time  he  compelled  them  to  return 
to  the  subject  in  hand  by  force  of  knitted  brows. 
He  finished  his  pipe  and  recharged  it.  The  fire 
burnt  low,  and  he  put  on  more  coal.  Still  no  suit- 
able opening  scene  presented  itself.  His  spirits 
slowly  fell.     What  ailed  him? 

At  length,  an  idea !  He  was  not  going  to  fail, 
after  all.  The  story  must  of  course  begin  with  a 
quarrel  between  old  Downs  and  his  daughter.  He 
drew  up  to  the  table,  took  a  pen,  and  wrote  the 
title;  then  a  few  sentences,  hurriedly,  and  then  a 
page.     Then  he  read  what  was  written,  pronounced 


A  MAN  FROM  THE  NORTH        227 

it  unconvincing  rubbish,  and  tore  it  up.  Words 
were  untractable,  and,  besides,  he  could  not  see  the 
scene.  He  left  the  table,  and  after  studying  a  tale 
of  de  Maupassant's,  started  on  a  new  sheet,  care- 
fully imitating  the  manner  of  that  writer.  But  he 
could  by  no  means  satisfy  himself.  Mrs.  Row- 
botham  appeared  with  the  supper-tray,  and  he  laid 
his  writing-materials  on  the  bed.  During  supper  he 
took  up  de  Maupassant  once  more,  and  at  ten 
o'clock  made  yet  a  third  attempt,  well  knowing  be- 
forehand that  it  would  not  be  successful.  The  plot 
tumbled  entirely  to  pieces;  the  conclusion  especially 
was  undramatic;  but  how  to  alter  it?     . 

He  was  disgusted  with  himself.  He  wondered 
what  would  happen  to  him  if  he  lost  his  situation. 
Supposing  that  the  firm  of  Curpet  and  Smythe 
failed!  Smythe  was  a  careless  fellow,  capable  of 
ruining  business  in  a  month  if  for  any  reason  Cur- 
pet's  restraining  influence  was  withdrawn.  These 
and  similar  morbid  fancies  assailed  him,  and  he  went 
to  bed  sick  with  misery,  heartily  wishing  that  he  had 
been  less  precipitate  in  his  attempt  to  be  industri- 
ous. He  had  a  superstition  that  if  he  had  waited  for 
the  New  Year,  the  adventure  might  have  resulted 
more  happily. 

In  the  night  he  awoke,  to  lament  upon  his  soli- 
tariness.    Why  had  he  no  congenial  friends?     How 


228        A  MAN  FROM  THE  NORTH 

could  he  set  about  obtaining  sympathetic  compan- 
ionship? He  needed,  in  particular,  cultured  fem- 
inine society.  Given  that,  he  could  work;  without  it 
he  should  accomplish  nothing.  He  reflected  that  in 
London  there  were  probably  thousands  of  "  nice 
girls,"  pining  for  such  men  as  he.  What  a  ridicu- 
lous civilisation  it  was  that  prevented  him  from  meet- 
ing them !  When  he  saw  a  promising  girl  in  a  bus, 
why  in  the  name  of  heaven  should  he  not  be  at  lib- 
erty to  say  to  her,  "  Look,  here,  I  can  convince  you 
that  I  mean  well;  let  us  make  each  other's  acquaint- 
ance"? .  .  .  But  convention,  convention!  He 
felt  himself  to  be  imprisoned  by  a  relentless,  un- 
scalable wall.  .  .  .  Then  he  dreamt  that  he 
was  in  a  drawing-room  full  of  young  men  and 
women,  and  that  all  were  chattering  vivaciously  and 
cleverly.  He  himself  stood  with  his  back  to  the 
fire,  and  talked  to  a  group  of  girls.  They  looked 
into  his  face,  as  Adeline  used  to  look.  They 
grasped  his  ideals  and  his  aims  without  laborious  ex- 
planations; half  a  word  was  sufficient  to  enlighten 
them;  he  saw  the  gleam  of  appreciative  comprehen- 
sion in  their  eyes  long  before  his  sentences  were  fin- 
ished. 


CHAPTER  XXVII 

THE  next  morning  was  bright  with  sunshine; 
the  frost  had  broken,  and  the  streets  were 
beginning  to  be  muddy.  Richard  went  out, 
his  mind  empty,  and  dully  dejected.  At  Sloane 
Street  he  mounted  a  bus,  taking  the  one  vacant  front 
seat  on  the  top.  For  a  little  while  he  stared  ab- 
sently at  the  handle  of  his  stick.  Presently  a  chance 
movement  of  the  head  made  him  aware  that  some- 
one's eyes  were  upon  him.  He  looked  round.  In 
the  far  corner  of  the  seat  opposite  was  Miss  Roberts. 
She  hesitated,  flushing,  and  then  bowed,  and  he  re- 
sponded. No  further  communications  were  possible 
just  then  (and  for  this,  at  the  moment,  he  felt 
thankful) ,  because  they  were  separated  by  two 
young  gentlemen  wearing  tweed  caps,  and  collars 
which  might  have  been  clean  once,  who  were  arguing 
briskly  over  a  copy  of  the  "  Sportsman." 

For  some  strange  reason  of  diffidence,  Richard 
had  not  been  to  the  Crabtree  since  his  visit  there  with 
Adeline.  He  was  sardonically  in  search  of  his  mo- 
tive  for  staying   away  when  the  young   gentlemen 

with  the  "  Sportsman  "  left  the  bus.     Miss  Roberts 

229 


230       A  MAN  FROM  THE  NORTH 

grew  rosy  as  he  got  up  and  offered  her  his  hand,  at 
the  same  time  seating  himself  by  her  side.  She 
wore  a  black  jacket  and  skirt,  well  worn  but  in  good 
preservation,  a  hat  with  red  flowers,  and  grey  wool- 
len gloves;  and  any  person  of  ordinary  discernment 
would  have  guessed  her  occupation  without  a  great 
deal  of  difficulty.  During  the  last  year  she  had  be- 
come stouter,  and  her  figure  was  now  full  rather 
than  slender;  her  features,  especially  the  nostrils, 
mouth,  and  chin,  were  somewhat  heavy,  but  she  had 
prettily  shaped  ears,  and  her  eyes,  of  no  definable 
tint,  were  soft  and  tender;  her  reddish-brown  hair 
was  as  conspicuous  and  as  splendid  as  ever,  colled 
with  tight  precision  at  the  back  of  her  head,  and  es- 
caping here  and  there  above  her  ears  in  tiny  flying 
wisps.  The  expression  of  her  face  was  mainly  one 
of  amiability,  but  passive,  animal-like,  Inert;  she 
seemed  full  of  good-nature. 

"  We  have  n't  seen  you  at  the  Crabtree,  lately," 
she  said. 

"  You  are  still  at  the  old  place,  then?  " 

"  Oh,  yes;  and  shall  be,  I  expect.  They  Ve  taken 
another  floor  now,  and  we  're  the  biggest  vegetarian 
restaurant  in  London." 

There  was  a  note  of  timid  agitation  In  her  voice, 
and  he  noticed  besides  that  her  cheeks  were  red  and 
her  eyes  shone.     Could  it  be  that  this  encounter  had 


A  MAN  FROM  THE  NORTH        231 

given  her  pleasure?  The  idea  of  such  a  possibility 
afforded  him  secret  delight.  .  .  .  She,  a 
breathing  woman,  glad  to  see  him  I  He  wondered 
what  the  other  people  on  the  bus  were  thinking  of 
them,  and  especially  what  the  driver  thought;  the 
driver  had  happened  to  catch  sight  of  them  when 
they  were  shaking  hands,  and  as  Richard  examined 
the  contour  of  the  man's  rubicund  face,  he  fancied 
he  saw  there  a  glimmer  of  a  smile.  This  was  dur- 
ing a  little  pause  in  the  conversation. 

"And  how  have  you  spent  Christmas?  "  It  was 
Richard's  question. 

"  At  home,"  she  answered  simply,  *'  with  father 
and  mother.  My  married  sister  and  her  husband 
cam.e  over  for  the  day." 

"  And  I  spent  mine  all  alone,"  he  said  ruefully. 
"  No  friends,  no  pudding,  no  nothing." 

She  looked  at  him  compassionately. 

"  I  suppose  you  live  In  rooms?  It  must  be  very 
lonely." 

"  Oh !  "  he  returned  lightly,  yet  seizing  with 
eager  satisfaction  the  sympathy  she  offered,  "  It 's 
nothing  when  you  're  used  to  it.  This  makes  my 
third  Christmas  in  London,  and  none  of  them  has 
been  particularly  uproarious.  Fortunately  there 
was  the  skating  this  year.  I  was  on  the  Serpentine 
nearly  all  day." 


232        A  MAN  FROM  THE  NORTH 

Then  she  asked  him  if  skating  was  easy  to  learn, 
because  she  had  been  wanting  to  try  for  years,  but 
had  never  had  opportunity.  He  answered  that  it 
was  quite  easy,  if  one  were  not  afraid. 

"  I  'm  going  your  way,"  he  said,  as  they  both 
got  off  at  Piccadilly  Circus,  and  they  walked  along 
Coventry  Street  together.  The  talk  flagged;  to 
rouse  it  Richard  questioned  her  about  the  routine  of 
the  restaurant, —  a  subject  on  which  she  spoke  read- 
ily, and  with  a  certain  sense  of  humour.  When 
they  reached  the  Crabtree, — 

"Why,  It's  been  painted!"  Richard  exclaimed. 
"  It  looks  very  swagger,  indeed,  now." 

"  Yes,  my  I  does  n't  it?  And  It 's  beautiful  Inside, 
too.     You  must  come  in  sometime." 

"  I  will,"  he  said  with  emphasis. 

She  shook  his  hand  quite  vigorously,  and  their 
eyes  met  with  a  curious  questioning  gaze.  He 
smiled  to  himself  as  he  walked  down  Chandos  Street; 
his  dejection  had  mysteriously  vanished,  and  he  even 
experienced  a  certain  uplifting  of  spirit.  It  oc- 
curred to  him  that  he  had  never  at  all  understood 
Miss  Roberts  before.  How  different  she  was  out- 
side the  restaurant!  Should  he  go  to  the  Crabtree 
for  lunch  that  day,  or  should  he  allow  a  day  or  two 
to  elapse  ?     He  decidedly  prudently  to  wait. 

He  debated  whether  he  should  mention  the  meet- 


A  MAN  FROM  THE  NORTH        233 

ing  to.  Jenkins,  and  said  on  the  whole  that  he^  would 
not  do  so.  But  he  found  Jenkins  surprisingly  ur- 
bane, and  without  conscious  volition  he  was  soon 
saying, — 

"  Guess  who  I  came  down  with  on  the  bus  thisi 
morning." 

Jenkins  gave  it  up. 

"Laura  Roberts;"  and  then,  seeing  no  look  of 
comprehension  on  Jenkins'  face,  "  You  know,  the 
cashier  at  the  Crabtree." 

"  Oh  —  her!  " 

The  stress  was  a  little  irritating. 

"/  saw  her  about  a  fortnight  ago,"  Jenkins  said. 

"At  the  Crabtree?" 

"  Yes.  Did  she  say  anything  to  you  about  me?  " 
The  youth  smiled. 

"No.     Why?" 

"  Nothing.  We  had  a  talk,  and  I  mashed  her  a 
bit, —  that's  all." 

"  Ah,  my  boy,  you  won't  get  far  with  her." 

"  Oh,  sha'n't  I?  I  could  tell  you  a  thing  or  two 
re  Laura  Roberts,  if  I  liked." 

Although  Jenkins'  remark  was  characteristic,  and 
Richard  knew  well  enough  that  there  was  nothing 
behind  his  words,  yet  his  mind  reverted  instantly  to 
the  stories  connecting  Miss  Roberts  with  Mr. 
Aked. 


'234       A  MAN  FROM  THE  NORTH 

"  Don't  gas,"  he  said  curtly.  "  She  looks  on  you 
as  a  boy." 

"  Man  enough  for  any  woman,"  said  Jenkins, 
twirling  the  rudiments  of  a  moustache. 

The  discussion  might  have  gone  further,  had  it 
not  been  interrupted  by  Mr.  Smythe,  who  burst  sud- 
denly into  the  room,  as  his  custom  was. 

"  Larch,  come  with  me  into  Mr.  Curpet's  room." 
His  tone  was  brusque.  He  had  none  of  Mr.  Cur- 
pet's natural  politeness,  though  on  rare  occasions,  of 
which  the  present  was  not  one,  he  sought  clumsily 
to  imitate  it.     Richard  felt  a  vague  alarm. 

With  a  muffler  round  his  throat,  Mr.  Curpet  was 
seated  before  the  fire,  blowing  his  nose  and  breath- 
ing noisily.  Mr,  Smythe  went  to  the  window,  and 
played  with  the  tassel  of  the  blind  cord. 

"  We  are  thinking  of  making  some  changes, 
Larch,"  Mr.  Curpet  began. 

"  Yes,  sir."  His  heart  sank.  Was  he  to  be  dis- 
missed?    The  next  sentence  was  reassuring. 

"  In  future  all  costs  will  be  drawn  and  settled  in 
the  office,  instead  of  being  sent  out.  Do  you  feel 
equal  to  taking  charge  of  that  department?" 

Richard  had  many  times  helped  in  the  preparation 
of  bills  of  cost,  and  possessed  a  fair  knowledge  of 
this  complicated  and  engaging  subject.  He  an- 
swered very  decidedly  in  the  affirmative. 


A  MAN  FROM  THE  NORTH        235 

"  What  we  propose,"  Mr.  Smythe  broke  in,  "  is 
that  you  should  have  an  assistant,  and  that  the  two 
of  you  should  attend  to  both  the  books  and  the 
costs." 

"  Of  course  your  salary  will  be  Increased,"  Mr. 
Curpct  added. 

"Let  me  see,  what  do  you  get  now?"  This 
from  Mr.  Smythe,  whose  memory  was  imperfect. 

"  Three  pounds  ten,  sir." 

"  Suppose  we  say  four  pounds  ten,"  said  Mr. 
Smythe  to  Mr.  Curpet,  and  then  turning  to  Larch: 
"That's  very  good  indeed,  you  know,  young  man; 
you  wouldn't  get  that  everywhere.  By  Jove,  no, 
you  would  n't  I"  Richard  was  fully  aware  of  the 
fact.  He  could  scarcely  credit  his  own  luck.  *'  And 
.we  shall  expect  you  to  keep  things  up  to  the  mark." 

Mr.  Curpet  smiled  kindly  over  his  handkerchief, 
as  if  to  intimate  that  Mr.  Smythe  need  not  have  in- 
sisted on  that  point. 

"  And  you   may  have   to   stay   late   sometimes," 
Mr.  Smythe  went  on. 
1  es,  sir. 

When  the  interview  was  finished,  he  retraced  his 
career  at  the  office,  marvelling  that  he  should  have 
done  anything  unusual  enough  to  inspire  his  princi- 
pals to  such  appreciation,  and  he  soon  made  out 
that,  compared  with  others  of  the  staff,  he  had  in- 


236       A  MAN  FROM  THE  NORTH 

deed  been  a  model  clerk.  A  delicious  self-com- 
placence enveloped  him.  Mr.  Smythe  had  had  the 
air  of  conferring  a  favour;  but  Mr.  Curpet  was  at 
the  head  of  affairs  at  No.  2  Serjeant's  Court,  and 
Mr.  Curpet's  attitude  had  been  decidedly  flattering. 
At  first  he  had  a  difficulty  In  grasping  his  good  for- 
tune, thought  it  too  good  to  be  true;  but  he  ended 
by  believing  In  himself  very  heartily.  In  the  matter 
of  salary,  he  stood  now  second  only  to  Mr.  Alder, 
he  a  youth  not  three  years  out  of  the  provinces. 
Three  years  ago  an  Income  of  £234  per  annum 
would  have  seemed  almost  fabulous.  His  notions 
as  to  what  constituted  opulence  had  changed  since 
then,  but  nevertheless  £234  was  an  excellent  revenue, 
full  of  possibilities.  A  man  could  marry  on  that 
and  live  comfortably;  many  men  ventured  to  marry 
on  half  as  much.  In  clerkdom  he  had  Indubitably 
risen  with  ease  to  the  upper  ranks.  There  was  good 
Northern  stuff  In  Richard  Larch,  after  alll  As  he 
walked  home,  his  brain  was  busy  with  plans,  beau- 
tiful plans  for  the  New  Year, —  how  he  would  save 
money,  and  how  he  would  spend  his  nights  in  toil. 


CHAPTER  XXVIII 

THERE  happened  to  be  a  room  to  let  on  the 
same  floor  as  Richard's  own.  The  rent  was 
only  five  shillings  per  week,  and  he  arranged 
to  take  it  and  use  it  as  a  bedroom,  transforming 
the  other  and  larger  room  into  a  study.  Mrs.  Row- 
botham  was  asked  to  remove  all  her  tables,  chairs, 
carpets,  pictures,  ornaments,  and  accessories  from 
both  rooms,  as  he  proposed  to  furnish  them  en- 
tirely anew  at  his  own  cost.  This  did  not  indicate 
that  a  sudden  increase  of  revenue  had,  as  once  on  a 
previous  occasion,  engendered  in  him  a  propensity 
to  squander.  On  the  contrary,  his  determination  to 
live  economically  was  well  established,  and  he  hoped 
to  save  a  hundred  pounds  per  annum  with  ease. 
But  the  Influence  of  an  aesthetic  environment  upon 
his  literary  work  would,  he  argued,  probably  be  val- 
uable enough  to  justify  the  moderate  expenditure 
involved,  and  so  all  the  leisure  of  the  last  days  of  the 
year  was  given  to  the  realisation  of  certain  theories 
in  regard  to  the  furnishing  of  a  study  and  a  bed- 
room. Unfortunately  the  time  at  his  disposal  was 
very  limited — 'Was  It  not  essential  that  the  place 

237 


238        A  MAN  FROM  THE  NORTH 

should  be  set  in  order  by  the  31st  of  December,  that 
work  might  commence  on  the  ist  of  January?  —  but 
he  did  not  spare  himself,  and  the  result,  when  he 
contemplated  It  on  New  Year's  Eve,  filled  him  with 
pleasure  and  pride.  He  felt  that  he  could  write 
worthily  in  that  study,  with  Its  four  autotype  repro- 
ductions of  celebrated  pictures  on  the  self-coloured 
walls.  Its  square  of  Indian  carpet  over  Indian  mat- 
ting, Its  long,  low  bookshelves.  Its  quaint  table  with 
the  elm  top,  Its  plain  rush-bottomed  chairs,  and  Its 
broad  luxurious  divan.  He  marvelled  that  he  had 
contrived  so  long  to  exist  in  the  room  as  It  was  be- 
fore, and  complacently  attributed  his  Ill-success  as  a 
writer  to  the  lack  of  harmonious  surroundings.  By 
the  last  post  arrived  a  New  Year's  card  from  Mrs. 
Clayton  Vernon.  Twelve  months  ago  she  had  sent 
a  similar  kind  token  of  remembrance,  and  he  had 
Ignored  It;  In  the  summer  she  had  written  Inviting 
him  to  spend  a  few  days  at  Bursley,  and  he  had 
somewhat  too  briefly  asked  to  be  excused.  To- 
night, however,  he  went  out,  bought  a  New  Year's 
card,  and  despatched  It  to  her  at  once.  He  flowed 
over  with  benevolence,  viewing  the  world  through 
the  rosy  spectacles  of  high  resolve.  Mrs.  Clayton 
Vernon  was  an  excellent  woman,  and  he  would  prove 
to  her  and  to  Bursley  that  they  had  not  estimated 
too  highly  the  possibilities  of  Richard  Larch.     He 


A  MAN  FROM  THE  NORTH        239 

was,  in  truth,  prodigiously  uplifted.  The  old  sense 
of  absolute  power  over  himself  for  good  or  evil  re- 
turned. A  consciousness  of  exceptional  ability  pos- 
sessed him.  The  future,  splendid  in  dreams,  was 
iwholly  his;  and  yet  again  —  perhaps  more  thor- 
oughly than  ever  before  —  the  ineffectual  past  was 
effaced.  To-morrow  was  the  New  Year,  and  to- 
morrow the  new  heaven  and  the  new  earth  were  to 
begin. 

He  had  decided  to  write  a  novel.  Having  failed 
In  short  stories  and  in  essays,  it  seemed  to  him  likely 
that  the  novel,  a  form  which  he  had  not  so  far  se- 
riously attempted,  might  suit  his  idiosyncrasy  better. 
He  had  once  sketched  out  the  plot  of  a  short  novel, 
a  tale  of  adventure  in  modern  London,  and  on  ex- 
amination this  struck  him  as  ingenious  and  promis- 
ing. Moreover,  it  would  appeal  —  like  Steven- 
son's "  New  Arabian  Nights,"  which  in  Richard's 
mind  it  distantly  resembled  —  both  to  the  general 
and  to  the  literary  public.  He  determined  to  write 
five  hundred  words  of  it  a  day,  five  days  a  week;  at 
this  rate  of  progress  he  calculated  that  the  book 
would  be  finished  in  four  months;  allowing  two 
months  further  for  revision,  it  ought  to  be  ready  for 
a  publisher  at  the  end  of  June. 

He  drew  his  chair  up  to  the  blazing  fire,  and 
looked  down  the  vista  of  those  long,  lamplit  even- 


240       A  MAN  FROM  THE  NORTH 

ings  during  which  the  novel  was  to  grow  under  his 
hands.  How  different  he  from  the  average  clerk, 
who  with  similar  opportunities  was  content  to  fritter 
away  those  hours  which  would  lead  himself,  per- 
haps, to  fame  1  He  thought  of  Adeline,  and  smiled. 
What,  after  all,  did  such  as  he  want  with  women? 
He  was  In  a  position  to  marry,  and  if  he  met  a  clever 
girl  of  sympathetic  temperament,  he  emphatically 
would  marry  (it  did  not  occur  to  him  to  add  the 
clause,  "  Provided  she  will  have  me  ")  ;  but  other- 
wise he  would  wait.  He  could  afford  to  wait, —  to 
wait  till  he  had  made  a  reputation,  and  half  a  score 
of  women,  elegant  and  refined,  were  only  too  willing 
to  envelop  him  In  an  atmosphere  of  adoration. 

It  was  part  of  his  plan  for  economy  to  dine  al- 
ways at  the  Crabtree,  where  one  shilling  was  the 
price  of  an  elaborate  repast,  and  he  went  there  on 
New  Year's  Day.  As  he  walked  up  Charing  Cross 
Road,  his  thoughts  turned  naturally  to  Miss  Rob- 
erts. Would  she  be  as  cordial  as  when  he  had  met 
her  on  the  omnibus,  or  would  she  wear  the  polite 
mask  of  the  cashier,  treating  him  merely  as  a  fre- 
quenter of  the  establishment?  She  was  engaged 
when  he  entered  the  dining-room,  but  she  noticed 
him  and  nodded.  He  looked  towards  her  several 
times  during  his  meal,  and  once  her  eyes  caught  his 


A  MAN  FROM  THE  NORTH        241 

and  she  smiled,  not  withdrawing  them  for  a  few 
moments;  then  she  bent  over  her  account  book. 

His  fellow-diners  seemed  curiously  to  have  de- 
generated, to  have  grown  still  narrower  in  their  sym- 
pathies, still  more  careless  in  their  eating,  still  more 
peculiar  or  shabbier  in  their  dress.  The  young 
women  of  masculine  aspect  set  their  elbows  on  the 
table  more  uncompromisingly  than  ever,  and  the 
young  men  with  soiled  wristbands  or  no  wristbands 
at  all  were  more  than  ever  tedious  in  their  murmured 
conversations.  It  was,  Indeed,  a  bizarre  company 
that  surrounded  himl  Then  he  reflected  that  these 
people  had  not  altered.  The  change  was  In  himself. 
He  had  outgrown  them;  he  surveyed  them  now  as 
from  a  tower.  He  was  a  man  with  a  future,  using 
this  restaurant  because  It  suited  him  temporarily  to 
do  so,  while  they  would  use  It  till  the  end,  never 
deviating,  never  leaving  the  rut. 

"  So  you  have  come  at  last  I  "  Miss  Roberts  said 
to  him  when  he  presented  his  check.  "  I  was  be- 
ginning to  think  you  had  deserted  us." 

"  But  it 's  barely  a  week  since  I  saw  you,"  he  pro- 
tested.    "  Let  me  wish  you  a  happy  New  Year." 

"  The  same  to  you."  She  flushed  a  little,  and 
then:  "What  do  you  think  of  our  new  decora- 
tions?    Are  n't  they  pretty?  " 

He    praised    them    perfunctorily,    even    without 


242        A  MAN  FROM  THE  NORTH 

glancing  round.  His  eyes  were  on  her  face.  He 
remembered  the  reiterated  insinuations  of  Jenkins, 
and  wondered  whether  they  had  any  ground  of 
fact. 

"  By  the  way,  has  Jenkins  been  here  to-day?  "  he 
inquired,  by  way  of  introducing  the  name. 

"  Is  that  the  young  man  who  used  to  come  with 
you  sometimes?     No." 

There  was  no  trace  of  self-consciousness  in  her 
bearing,  and  Richard  resolved  to  handle  Jenkins 
with  severity.  Another  customer  approached  the 
pay-desk. 

"  Well,  good  afternoon."     He  lingered. 

"  Good  afternoon."  Her  gaze  rested  on  him 
softly.  "  I  suppose  you  '11  be  here  again  some 
time."  She  spoke  low,  so  that  the  other  customer 
should  not  hear. 

"  I  'm  coming  every  day  now,  I  think,"  he  an- 
swered in  the  same  tone,  with  a  smothered  laugh. 
"  Ta-ta." 

That  night  at  half-past  seven  he  began  his  novel. 
The  opening  chapter  was  introductory,  and  the 
words  came  without  much  effort.  This  being  only 
a  draft,  there  was  no  need  for  polish;  so  that  when 
a  sentence  refused  to  run  smoothly  at  the  first  trial, 
he  was  content  to  make  it  grammatical  and  leave  it. 
He  seemed  to  have  been  working  for  hours  when  a 


A  MAN  FROM  THE  NORTH        243 

desire  took  him  to  count  up  what  was  already  writ- 
ten. Six  hundred  words !  He  sighed  the  sigh  of 
satisfaction,  and  looked  at  his  watch,  to  find  that  it 
was  exactly  half-past  eight.  The  discovery  some- 
what damped  his  felicity.  He  began  to  doubt 
whether  stuff  composed  at  the  rate  of  ten  words  a 
minute  could  have  any  real  value.  Pooh  I  Some- 
times one  wrote  quickly,  and  sometimes  slowly.  The 
number  of  minutes  occupied  was  no  index  of  quality. 
Should  he  continue  writing?  Yes,  he  would.  .  .  . 
No.  .  .  .  Why  should  he?  He  had  per- 
formed the  task  self-allotted  for  the  day,  and  more; 
and  now  he  was  entitled  to  rest.  True,  the  actual 
time  of  labour  had  been  very  short;  but  then,  an- 
other day  the  same  amount  of  work  might  consume 
three  or  four  hours.  He  put  away  his  writing- 
things,  and  searched  about  for  something  to  read, 
finally  lighting  on  "  Paradise  Lost."  But  "  Para- 
dise Lost "  wanted  actuality.  He  laid  It  aside. 
Was  there  any  valid  reason  why  he  should  not  con- 
clude the  evening  at  the  theatre?  None.  The 
frost  had  returned  with  power,  and  the  reverbera- 
tion of  the  streets  sounded  invitingly  through  his 
curtained  windows.  He  went  out,  and  walked 
briskly  up  Park  Side.  At  Hyde  Park  Corner  he 
jumped  on  an  omnibus. 

It  was  the  first  night  of  a  new  ballet  at  the  Otto- 


244       A  MAN  FROM  THE  NORTH 

man.  "  Standing-room  only,"  said  the  man  at  the 
ticket-office.  "  All  right,"  said  Richard,  and,  enter- 
ing, was  greeted  with  soft  music,  which  came  to  him 
like  a  fitful  zephyr  over  a  sea  of  heads, 


CHAPTER  XXIX 

ONE  Saturday  afternoon  towards  the  end  of 
February,  he  suddenly  decided  to  read 
through  so  much  of  the  draft  novel  as  was 
written;  hitherto  he  had  avoided  any  sort  of  revision. 
The  resolve  to  accomplish  five  hundred  words  a  day 
had  been  kept  Indifferently  well,  and  the  total  stood 
at  about  fourteen  thousand.  As  he  wrote  a  very 
bold  hand,  the  sheets  covered  made  quite  a  respect- 
able pile.  The  mere  bulk  of  them  cajoled  him,  In 
spite  of  certain  misgivings,  into  an  optimistic  sur- 
mise as  to  their  literary  quality.  Never  before  had 
he  written  so  much  upon  one  theme,  and  were  the 
writing  good  or  bad,  he  was,  for  a  few  moments, 
proud  of  his  achievement.  The  mischief  lay  In  the 
fact  that  week  by  week  he  had  exercised  less  and 
still  less  care  over  the  work.  The  phrase,  "  Any- 
thing will  do  for  a  draft,"  had  come  to  be  uttered 
with  increasing  frequency  as  an  excuse  for  laxities 
of  style  and  construction.  "  I  will  make  that  right 
in  the  revision,"  he  had  reassured  himself,  and  had 
gone     negligently     forward,     leaving     Innumerable 

245 


246        A  MAN  FROM  THE  NORTH 

crudities  In  the  wake  of  his  hurrying  pen.  During 
the  last  few  days  he  had  written  scarcely  anything, 
and  perhaps  it  was  a  hope  of  stimulating  a  drooping 
inspiration  by  the  complacent  survey  of  work  actu- 
ally done  that  tempted  him  to  this  hazardous  pe- 
rusal. 

He  whistled  as  he  took  up  the  manuscript,  as  a 
boy  whistles  when  going  into  a  dark  cellar.  The 
first  three  pages  were  read  punctihously,  every  word 
of  them,  but  soon  he  grew  hasty,  rushing  to  the  next 
paragraph  ere  the  previous  one  was  grasped;  then 
he  began  shamelessly  to  skip;  and  then  he  stopped, 
and  his  heart  seemed  to  stop  also.  The  lack  of 
homogeneity,  of  sequence,  of  dramatic  quality,  of 
human  interest;  the  loose  syntax;  and  the  unrelieved 
mediocrity  of  it  all,  horrified  him.  The  thing  was 
dry  bones,  a  fiasco.  The  certainty  that  he  had  once 
more  failed  swept  over  him  like  a  cold,  green  wave 
of  the  sea,  and  he  had  a  physical  feeling  of  sickness 
in  the  stomach.  ...  It  was  with  much  ado 
that  he  refrained  from  putting  the  whole  manuscript 
upon  the  fire,  and  crushing  It  venomously  into  the 
flames  with  a  poker.  Then  he  steadied  himself. 
His  self-confidence  was  going,  almost  gone;  he  must 
contrive  to  recover  it,  and  he  sought  for  a  way. 
(Where  were  now  the  rash  exultations  of  the  New 
Year?)     It  was  Impossible  that  his  work  should  be 


A  MAN  FROM  THE  NORTH        247 

irredeemably  bad.  He  remembered  having  read 
somewhere  that  the  difference  between  a  fine  and  a 
worthless  novel  was  often  a  difference  of  elaboration 
simply.  A  conscientious  re-wrlting,  therefore,  might 
probably  bring  about  a  surprising  amelioration.  He 
must  immediately  make  the  experiment.  But  he 
had  long  since  solemnly  vowed  not  to  commence  the 
second  writing  till  the  draft  was  done;  the  moral 
value  of  finishing  even  the  draft  had  then  seemed  to 
him  priceless.  No  matter !  Under  stress  of 
grievous  necessity,  that  oath  must  be  forsworn.  No 
other  course  could  save  him  from  collapse. 

He  went  out  into  the  streets.  The  weather,  fine 
and  bright,  suggested  the  earliest  infancy  of  spring, 
and  Piccadilly  was  full  of  all  classes  and  all  ages  of 
women.  There  were  regiments  of  men,  too,  but 
the  gay  and  endless  stream  of  women  obsessed  him. 
He  saw  them  sitting  in  hansoms  and  private  car- 
riages and  on  the  tops  of  omnibuses,  niched  in  high 
windows,  shining  in  obscurity  of  shops,  treading  the 
pavements  with  fairy  step,  either  unattended  or  by 
the  side  of  foolish,  unappreclative  males.  Every 
man  in  London  seemed  to  have  the  right  to  a  share 
of  some  woman's  companionship,  except  himself.  As 
for  those  men  who  walked  alone,  they  had  sweet- 
hearts somewhere,  or  mothers  and  sisters,   or  they 


248        A  MAN  FROM  THE  NORTH 

were  married  and  even  now  on  the  way  to  wife  and 
hearth.     Only  he  was  set  apart. 

A  light  descended  upon  him  that  afternoon.     The 
average   man  and  the   average  woman  being   con- 
stantly thrown  into  each  other's  society,  custom  has 
staled  for  them  the  exquisite  privilege  of  such  inter- 
course.    The  rustic  cannot  share  the  townsman's  en- 
thusiasm for  rural  scenery;  he  sees  no  matter  for 
ecstasy  in  the  view  from  his  cottage  door;  and  in  the 
same  way  the  average  man  and  the  average  woman 
dine      together,      talk     together,      walk     together, 
and     know     not     how     richly     they     are     therein 
blessed.     But    with    solitaries    like    Richard    it    is 
different.     Debarred     froiU     fellowship     with     the 
opposite     sex     by     circumstances     and     an     innate 
diffidence    which    makes    the    control    of    circum- 
stance impossible,  their  starved  sensibilities  acquire 
certain  morbid  tenderness.      (Doubtless  the   rustic 
discerns  morbidity  in  the  attitude  of  the  townsman 
towards  the  view  from  his  cottage  door.)      Richard 
grasped  this.     In  a  luminous  moment  of  self-reve- 
lation, he  was  able  to  trace  the  growth  of  the  mal- 
ady.    From  its  first  vague  and  fugitive  symptoms,  it 
had  so   grown   that   now,    on   seeing   an   attractive 
woman,  he  could  not  be  content  to  say,  "  What  an 
attractive  woman !  "  and  have  done  with  it,  but  he 
needs  must  build  a  house,   furnish  a  room  in  the 


p 


A  MAN  FROM  THE  NORTH        249 

house,  light  a  fire  in  the  room,  place  a  low  chair  by 
the  fire,  put  the  woman  in  the  chair,  with  a  welcoming 
smile  on  her  upturned  lips  —  and  imagine  that  she 
was  his  wife.  And  it  was  not  only  attractive  women 
that  laid  the  spell  upon  him.  The  sight  of  any  liv- 
ing creature  in  petticoats  was  liable  to  set  his  hys- 
terical fancy  in  motion.  Every  woman  he  met  was 
Woman.  ...  Of  the  millions  of  women  in 
London,  why  was  he  not  permitted  to  know  a  few? 
,Why  was  he  entirely  cut  off  ?  There  they  were : 
their  silk  skirts  brushed  him  as  they  passed;  they 
thanked  him  for  little  services  in  public  vehicles; 
they  ministered  to  him  in  restaurants;  they  sang  to 
him  at  concerts,  danced  for  him  at  theatres ;  touched 
his  existence  at  every  side  — -  and  yet  they  were  re- 
moter than  the  stars,  unattainable  as  the  moon. 
.  .  .  He  rebelled.  He  sank  in  despair,  and 
rose  to  frenzies  of  anger.  Then  he  was  a  pathetic 
figure,  and  extended  to  himself  his  own  pity,  smiling 
sardonically  at  fate.  Fate  was  the  harder  to  bear 
because  he  was  convinced  that,  at  the  heart  of  him^ 
he  was  essentially  a  woman's  man.  None  could  en- 
joy the  feminine  atmosphere  more  keenly,  more  ar- 
tistically than  he.  Other  men,  who  had  those  deli- 
cious rights  for  which  he  longed  in  vain,  assessed 
them  meanly,  or  even  scorned  them.  .  .  .  He 
looked  back  with  profound  regret  to  his  friendship 


250       A  MAN  FROM  THE  NORTH 

with  Adeline.  He  dreamt  that  she  had  returned, 
that  he  had  fallen  in  love  with  her  and  married  her, 
that  her  ambitions  were  leading  him  forward  to  suc- 
cess. Ah !  Under  the  incentive  of  a  woman's  eyes, 
of  what  tremendous  efforts  is  a  clever  man  not 
capable,  and  deprived  of  it  to  what  deeps  of  stag- 
nations will  he  not  descend!  Then  he  awoke  again 
to  the  fact  that  he  knew  no  woman  in  London. 

Yes,  he  knew  one,  and  his  thoughts  began  to  play 
round  her  caressingly,  idealising  and  ennobling  her. 
She  only  gave  him  his  change  daily  at  the  Crabtree, 
but  he  knew  her;  there  existed  between  them  a  kind 
of  intimacy.  She  was  a  plain  girl,  possessing  few  at- 
tractions, except  the  supreme  one  of  being  a  woman. 
She  was  below  him  in  station;  but  had  she  not  her 
refinements?  Though  she  could  not  enter  into  his 
mental  or  emotional  life,  did  she  not  exhale  for  him 
a  certain  gracious  influence?  His  heart  went  forth 
to  her.  Her  flirtations  with  Mr.  Aked,  her  alleged 
dalliance  with  Jenkins?  Trifles,  nothings!  She 
had  told  him  that  she  lived  with  her  mother  and 
father  and  a  younger  brother,  and  on  more  than  one 
occasion  she  had  mentioned  the  Wesleyan  chapel; 
he  had  gathered  that  the  whole  family  was  religious. 
In  theory  he  detested  religious  women,  and  yet  — 
religion  in  a  woman  .  .  .  what  was  it?  He 
answered   the   question   with    a   man's   easy   laugh. 


A  MAN  FROM  THE  NORTH        251 

And  If  her  temperament  was  somewhat  lymphatic, 
he  divined  that,  once  roused,  she  was  capable  of  the 
most  passionate  feeling.  He  had  always  had  a  pre- 
dilection for  the  sleeping-volcano  species  of  woman. 


CHAPTER  XXX 

RICHARD  was  soon  forced  to  the  conclusion 
that  the  second  writing  of  his  novel  was 
destined  to  be  a  failure.  For  a  few  days 
he  stuck  doggedly  to  the  task,  writing  stuff  which,  as 
he  wrote  it,  he  knew  would  ultimately  be  condemned. 
Then  one  evening  he  stopped  suddenly,  in  the  middle 
of  a  word,  bit  the  penholder  for  a  moment,  and  threw 
It  down  with  a  "  Damn  I  "  This  sort  of  thing  could 
not  continue. 

"  Better  come  up  and  see  my  new  arrangements 
at  Raphael  Street  to-night,"  he  said  to  Jenkins  the 
next  day.     He  wanted  a  diversion. 

"  Any  whisky  going?  " 

"  Certainly." 

"  Delighted,  I  'm  sure,"  said  Jenkins,  with  one  of 
his  ridiculous  polite  bows.  He  regarded  these  rare 
Invitations  as  an  honour;  it  was  more  than  six  months 
since  the  last. 

They  drank  whisky  and  smoked  cigars  which  Jen- 
kins had  thoughtfully  brought  with  him,  and  chat- 
tered for  a  long  time  about  office  matters.  And 
then,  as  the  cigar-ash  accumulated,  the  topics  became 

252 


A  MAN  FROM  THE  NORTH       253 

more  personal  and  intimate.  That  night  Jenkins 
was  certainly  in  a  serious  vein;  further,  he  was  on 
his  best  behaviour,  striving  to  be  sympathetic  and 
gentlemanly.  He  confided  to  Richard  his  aspira- 
tions. He  wished  to  learn  French  and  proposed  to 
join  a  Polytechnic  Institute  for  the  purpose.  Also, 
he  had  thoughts  of  leaving  home,  and  living  In 
rooms,  like  Richard.  He  was  now  earning  twenty- 
eight  shillings  a  week;  he  Intended  to  save  money 
and  to  give  up  all  intoxicants  beyond  half  a  pint  of 
bitter  a  day.  Richard  responded  willingly  to  his 
mood,  and  offered  sound  advice,  which  was  listened 
to  with  deference.  Then  the  talk,  as  often  afore- 
time, drifted  to  the  subject  of  women.  It  appeared 
that  Jenkins  had  a  desire  to  "  settle  down  "  (he  was 
twenty-one).  He  knew  several  fellows  In  the  Wal- 
worth Road  who  had  married  on  less  than  he  was 
earning. 

"What  about  Miss  Roberts?"  Richard  ques- 
tioned. 

"  Oh  1  She  's  off.  She  's  a  bit  too  old  for  me, 
you  know.     She  must  be  twenty-six." 

*'  Look  here,  my  boy,"  said  Richard,  good-hu- 
mouredly.  "  I  don't  believe  you  ever  had  anything 
to  do  with  her  at  all.  It  was  nothing  but  boast- 
ing." 

"What  will  you  bet  I  can't  prove  it  to  you?" 


254       A  MAN  FROM  THE  NORTH 

Jenkins  retorted,  putting  out  his  chin,  an  ominous 
gesture  with  him. 

"  I  '11  bet  you  half-a-crown  —  no,  a  shilling." 

"  Done." 

Jenkins  took  a  leather-case  from  his  pocket,  and 
handed  Richard  a  midget  photograph  of  Miss  Rob- 
erts. Underneath  it  was  her  signature,  "  Yours  sin- 
cerely, Laura  Roberts." 

Strange  to  say,  the  incident  did  not  trouble  Richard 
in  the  least. 

He  walked  down  to  Victoria  with  Jenkins  towards 
midnight,  and  on  returning  to  his  lodging,  thought 
for  the  hundredth  time  how  futile  was  his  present 
mode  of  existence,  how  bare  of  all  that  makes  life 
.worth  living.  Of  what  avail  to  occupy  pretty 
rooms.  If  one  occupied  them  alone,  coming  into  them 
at  night  to  find  them  empty,  leaving  them  in  the 
morning  without  a  word  of  farewell?  In  the  waste 
of  London,  Laura  Roberts  made  the  one  green  spot. 
He  had  lost  interest  In  his  novel.  On  the  other 
hand,  his  interest  in  the  daily  visit  to  the  Crabtree 
was  Increasing. 

As  day  succeeded  day  he  fell  Into  a  practice  of 
deliberately  seeking  out  and  magnifying  the  finer 
qualities  In  her  nature,  while  ignoring  those  which 
were  likely  to  offend  him;  indeed  he  refused  to  allow 
himself  to  be  offended.     He  went  so  far  as  to  retard 


A  MAN  FROM  THE  NORTH        255 

his  lunch-hour  permanently,  so  that,  the  rush  of  cus- 
tomers being  past,  he  should  have  better  opportunity 
to  talk  to  her  without  interruption.  Then  he  tim- 
idly essayed  the  first  accents  of  courtship,  and  finding 
his  advances  accepted,  grew  bolder.  One  Sunday 
morning  he  met  her  as  she  was  coming  out  of  the 
Wesleyan  chapel  at  Munster  Park;  he  said  the  en- 
counter was  due  to  accident.  She  introduced  him  to 
her  relations,  who  were  with  her.  Her  father  was 
a  big,  stout,  dark  man,  dressed  in  black  faced-cloth, 
with  a  heavy  beard,  huge  chubby  fingers,  and  jagged 
grey  finger-nails.  Her  mother  was  a  spare  woman 
of  sorrowful  aspect,  whose  thin  lips  seldom  moved; 
she  held  her  hands  in  front  of  her,  one  on  the  top  of 
the  other.  Her  brother  was  a  lank  schoolboy,  wear- 
ing a  damaged  mortar-board  hat. 

Shortly  afterwards  he  called  on  her  at  Carteret 
Street.  The  schoolboy  opened  the  door,  and  after 
inviting  him  as  far  as  the  lobby,  vanished  into  a  back 
room  only  to  reappear  and  run  upstairs.  Richard 
heard  his  loud,  agitated  whisper:  "Laura,  Laura, 
here  's  Mr.  Larch  come  to  see  you." 

They  strolled  to  Wimbleton  Common  that  night. 

His  entity  seemed  to  have  becom.e  dual.  One 
part  of  him  was  willingly  enslaved  to  an  imperious, 
headstrong  passion;  the  other  stood  calmly,  cynically 
apart,   and  watched.     There   were   hours  when   he 


256        A  MAN  FROM  THE  NORTH 

could  foresee  the  whole  of  his  future  life,  and 
measure  the  bitter,  Ineffectual  regret  which  he  was 
laying  up;  hours  when  he  admitted  that  his  passion 
had  been,  as  it  were,  artificially  incited,  and  that 
there  could  be  no  hope  of  an  enduring  love.  He 
liked  Laura;  she  was  a  woman,  a  balm,  a  consola- 
tion. To  all  else  he  obstinately  shut  his  eyes,  and, 
casting  away  every  consideration  of  prudence,  has- 
tened to  involve  himself  more  and  more  deeply. 
Swiftly,  swiftly,  the  climax  approached.  He  hailed 
it  with  a  strange,  affrighted  joy. 


CHAPTER  XXXI 

THEY  were  upon  Chelsea  Embankment  In  the 
late  dusk  of  a  Saturday  evening  in  May.  A 
warm  and  gentle  wind  stirred  the  budding 
trees  to  magic  utterances.  The  long,  straight  line 
of  serried  lamps  stretched  away  to  an  enchanted 
bridge  which  with  twinkling  lights  hung  poised  over 
the  misty  river.  The  plash  of  an  oar  came  lan- 
guorously up  from  the  water,  and  the  voices  of  boys 
calling.  At  Intervals,  couples  like  themselves  passed 
by,  either  silent  or  conversing  in  low  tones  that 
seemed  to  carry  inner,  inarticulate  meanings.  As 
for  them,  they  were  silent;  he  had  not  her  arm,  but 
they  walked  close  together.  He  was  deeply  and  in- 
describably moved;  his  heart  beat  heavily,  and  when 
he  looked  at  her  face  in  the  gloom  and  saw  that  her 
eyes  were  liquid,  it  beat  yet  more  heavily;  then  lay 
still. 

"  Let  us  sit  down  —  shall  we?  "  he  said  at  length, 
and  they  turned  to  an  empty  bench  under  a  tree. 
"What  is  she  thinking?"  he  wondered,  and  then 
the  dominant  feeling  of  the  moment  possessed  him 
wholly.     His    ambitions    floated   out    of   sight    and 

257 


258        A  MAN  FROM  THE  NORTH 

were  forgotten.  He  remembered  nothing  except 
the  girl  by  his  side,  whose  maddening  bosom  rose 
and  fell  under  his  very  gaze.  At  that  moment  she 
belonged  to  no  class;  had  no  virtues,  no  faults.  All 
the  inessentials  of  her  being  were  stripped  away, 
and  she  was  merely  a  woman,  divine,  desired,  nec- 
essary, waiting  to  be  captured.  She  sat  passive,  ex- 
pectant, the  incarnation  of  the  Feminine. 

He  took  her  hand  and  felt  it  tremble.  At  the 
contact  a  thrill  ran  about  him,  and  for  a  second  a 
delicious  faintness  robbed  him  of  all  strength. 
Then  with  inexplicable  rapidity  his  mind  went  un- 
erringly back  to  that  train-journey  to  William's 
funeral.  He  saw  the  cottage  in  the  fields,  and  the 
young  mother,  half  robed  and  with  sleep  In  her  eyes, 
standing  at  the  door.     Exquisite  vision ! 

He  heard  himself  speaking, — 

"  Laura     .     .     ." 

The  little  hand  gave  a  timorous  encouragement. 

*'  Laura     .     .     .     you  are  going  to  marry  me." 

The  intoxicating  pressure  of  her  lips  on  his 
was  answer.  Heedless  of  publicity,  he  crushed  her 
against  his  breast,  this  palpitating  creature  with  the 
serious  face.     Ah,  she  could  love ! 

It  was  done.  The  great  irretrievable  moment 
had  gone  to  join  a  million  other  moments  of  no 


A  MAN  FROM  THE  NORTH        259 

significance.     He    felt    triumphant,    fiercely    trium- 
phant.    His  frightful  solitude  was  at  an  end.     One 
woman  was  his.     A  woman     .     .     .     his,  his  own ! 
See  1     A  tear  quivered  in  her  eye.     .     ,     , 


CHAPTER  XXXII 

SUNDAY  was  stifllngly  hot.  At  Sloane  Street 
the  roof  of  every  Putney  omnibus  was  already 
laden  with  passengers,  and  Richard  on  his  way 
to  Carteret  Street  to  make  the  aquaintance  of  Laura's 
married  sister,  Milly  Powell,  her  husband  and  young 
child,  was  forced  at  last  to  be  content  with  a  seat 
inside.  The  public  houses  were  just  closing  for  the 
afternoon,  and  the  footpaths  full  of  holiday-mak- 
ers, with  here  and  there  a  girl  or  a  middle-aged  man 
carrying  a  Bible.  No  vehicles  were  abroad  except 
the  omnibuses  and  an  occasional  hired  carriage  which 
passed  by  with  a  nonchalant,  lazy  air. 

At  the  Redcliffe  Arms  there  got  in  a  little  family 
party  consisting  of  a  stout,  seemingly  prosperous 
man,  gruffly  good-humoured,  his  wife,  and  a  boy  of 
about  three  years,  whose  puffy  face  was  disfigured  by 
large  spectacles. 

"  Sit  here,  Milly,  out  of  the  sun,"  the  man  said 
curtly. 

Richard  looked  up  at  the   sound   of  the   name. 

The  woman's  likeness  to  Laura  was  unmistakable; 

beyond  doubt  she  must  be  the  sister  of  his  betrothed. 

260 


A  MAN  FROM  THE  NORTH        261 

He  examined  her  curiously.  She  was  perhaps 
slightly  under  thirty,  of  a  good  height  and  well  set, 
with  a  large  head  and  a  large,  plain  face.  Her 
movements  were  clumsy.  She  appeared  to  be  just 
upon  the  line  which  divides  the  matron  from  the 
young  mother.  In  both  her  features  and  her  attire 
there  were  faint  reminders  of  girlish  grace,  or  at 
least  of  the  charm  of  the  shy  wife  who  nurses  her 
iirst-born.  Her  complexion  was  clear  and  fresh,  her 
ears  small  and  delicately  pink,  her  eyes  cool  grey. 
But  one  did  not  notice  these  beauties  without  care- 
ful Inspection,  while  the  heavy  jaws,  the  lax  eyelids, 
the  flattened  nose  whose  tilt  unpleasantly  revealed 
the  nostrils,  were  obvious  and  repellent.  She  wore 
a  black  gown,  which  fitted  badly.  Imparting  an  un- 
galnliness  probably  foreign  to  her  proper  figure. 
Her  broad  hat  of  black  straw,  trimmed  with  popples 
and  corn-flowers,  was  strikingly  modish,  and  the  veil, 
running  at  an  angle  from  the  extremity  of  the  brim 
down  to  her  chin,  gave  to  her  face  a  cloistered  qual- 
ity which  had  its  own  seductiveness.  Her  small 
hands  were  neatly  gloved,  and  held  a  cheap,  effective 
parasol.  The  woman's  normal  expression  was  one 
of  cow-like  vacancy,  but  now  and  then  her  eyes  would 
light  up  as  she  spoke  to  the  child,  gently  restraining 
it,  reassuring  it,  rallying  it  with  simple  banter.  She 
was  still  in  love  with  her  husband;   frequently  she 


262       A  MAN  FROM  THE  NORTH 

glanced  at  him  with  furtive  wistfulness.  She  was 
able  to  enjoy  the  summer  weather.  She  was  not 
quite  dead  to  the  common  phenomena  of  the  road- 
side. But  the  last  resistances  of  departing  youthful- 
ness  and  vivacity  against  the  narcotic  of  a  dull,  un- 
lovely domesticity  were  taking  place.  In  a  year  or 
two  she  would  be  the  typical  matron  of  the  lower 
middle-class. 

When  Richard  had  made  these  observations,  he 
reflected:  "Laura  will  be  like  that  —  soon." 
Mentally  he  compared  the  two  faces,  and  he  could, 
as  it  were,  see  Laura's  changing.     .     .     . 

Then  followed  a  reverie  which  embraced  the 
whole  of  his  past  Hfe.  He  recognised  that,  while  he 
bore  all  the  aspect  of  prosperity,  he  had  failed. 
Why  had  nature  deprived  him  of  strength  of  pur- 
pose? Why  could  not  he,  like  other  men,  bend 
circumstances  to  his  own  ends?  He  sought  for  a 
reason,  and  he  found  it  in  his  father,  that  mysterious, 
dead  transmitter  of  traits,  of  whom  he  knew  so 
little,  and  on  whose  name  lay  a  blot  of  some  kind 
which  was  hidden  from  him.  He  had  been  born  in 
the  shadow,  and  after  a  fitful  struggle  towards  emer- 
gence, into  the  shadow  he  must  again  retire.  Fate 
was  his  enemy.  Mary  had  died;  Mary  would  have 
helped  him  to  be  strong.  Mr.  Aked  had  died;  Mr. 
Aked's  inspiring  influence  would  have  Incited  and 


A  MAN  FROM  THE  NORTH        263 

guided  his  efforts.     Adeline  had  abandoned  him  to 
a  fatal  loneliness. 

He  knew  that  he  would  make  no  further  attempt 
to  write.  Laura  was  not  even  aware  that  he  had 
had  ambitions  In  that  direction.  He  had  never  told 
her,  because  she  would  not  have  understood.  She 
worshipped  him,  he  felt  sure,  and  at  times  he  had  a 
great  tenderness  for  her;  but  It  would  be  impossible 
to  write  In  the  suburban  doU's-house  which  was  to  be 
theirs.  No!  In  future  he  would  be  simply  the 
suburban  husband  —  dutiful  towards  his  employers, 
upon  whose  grace  he  would  be  doubly  dependent; 
keeping  his  house  In  repair;  pottering  In  the  garden; 
taking  his  wife  out  for  a  walk,  or  occasionally  to  the 
theatre;  and  saving  as  much  as  he  could.  He  would 
be  good  to  his  wife  —  she  was  his.  He  wanted  to 
get  married  at  once.  He  wanted  to  be  master  of 
his  own  dwelling.  He  wanted  to  have  Laura's  kiss 
when  he  went  out  of  a  morning  to  earn  the  bread- 
and-cheese.  He  wanted  to  see  her  figure  at  the 
door  when  he  returned  at  night.  He  wanted  to 
share  with  her  the  placid,  domestic  evening.  He 
wanted  to  tease  her,  and  to  get  his  ears  boxed  and 
be  called  a  great  silly.  He  wanted  to  creep  Into 
the  kitchen  and  surprise  her  with  a  pinch  of  the 
cheek  as  she  bent  over  the  range.  Lie  wanted  to 
whisk  her  up  in  his  arms,  carry  her  from  one  room 


264       A  MAN  FROM  THE  NORTH 

to  another,  and  set  her  down  breathless  in  a  chair. 
.  .  .  Ah  I  Let  it  be  soon.  And  as  for  the 
more  distant  future,  he  would  not  look  at  that.  He 
would  keep  his  eyes  on  the  immediate  foreground, 
and  be  happy  while  he  could.  After  all,  perhaps 
things  had  been  ordered  for  the  best;  perhaps  he 
had  no  genuine  talent  for  writing.  And  yet  at  that 
moment  he  was  conscious  that  he  possessed  the  in- 
communicable imaginative  insights  of  the  author. 
.     .     .     But  it  was  done  with  now. 

The  conductor  called  out  their  destination,  and 
as  Laura's  sister  gathered  the  child  in  her  arms  he 
sprang  out  and  hurried  down  Carteret  Street  in 
order  to  reach  the  house  first  and  so  avoid  a  meeting 
on  the  doorstep.  He  heard  the  trot  of  the  child 
behind  him.  Children  .  .  .  Perhaps  a  child 
of  his  might  give  sign  of  literary  ability.  If  so  — 
and  surely  these  instincts  descended,  were  not  lost  — 
how  he  would  foster  and  encourage  it  I 


THE  END 


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